The Sun Also Sets
by WordRoses
Summary: They meet, they argue. Coffee vs. Tea, Wonderwall vs. Live Forever, Head vs. Heart. But then a murder changes it all and they agree on one thing at last: Edward is innocent. Against all odds it's Edward & Bella vs. the world. AH
1. Preface

Thanks to the wonderful ilsuocantante for taking her time and reading this for us. We can't even tell, how much we appreciate her help.

**Disclaimer: **This belongs to Stephenie Meyer, we belong to Edward Cullen.

The story takes place in Newcastle, England (most of the time), because we all love British accents, don't we?  
The title of this story is borrowed from Mr. Ryan Adams who doesn't have, but can imitate, a British accent fairly good.

* * *

**Preface**

_there it is__  
we are only one push from the nest__  
we are only one argument from death  
__the sun rises, but the sun also sets  
(The Sun Also Sets – Ryan Adams)_

The room was dark and damp, located in a basement far away from everything. She could scream and shout as much as she liked – nobody would ever hear her. After hours the screaming stopped and she began to cry. I didn't mind any of it. Every bit of her fear satisfied me, made me even stronger.

"Say goodbye to Pretty Boy," I whispered to her, my fingers trailing her cheekbone, enjoying her hopeless attempts to get out of my reach. "Because tomorrow won't be pretty."

"NO!" she screamed, yanking on the chair, tugging at the bonds, falling flat to her side and then fidgeting on the floor like a bug, unable to get on its feet again. My smile grew wide. I imagined this would be good, but that it worked out so amazingly well and turned out to be so much fun was a nice surprise.

Once again I took in everything about her. Her shocked, broken expression, her tormented eyes, the beautiful yet scratched face. Very pleased with myself, I closed the door of the chamber behind me and went to go have some fun with Pretty Boy.


	2. You And I Are Gonna Live Forever

**Disclaimer: **We still own nothing, while Stephenie Meyer owns it all.

Thanks again to ilsuocantante for reading this.

* * *

**Chapter 1 – You And I Are Gonna Live Forever**

lately did you ever feel the pain  
in the morning rain  
as it soaks you to the bone  
_(Live Forever – Oasis)_

**Bella Swan**

I know, I should be used to the rain by now. I'd been living in England for 25 years, which translated to all my life. But still, running around with an umbrella all the time and getting wet anyway wasn't my idea of a perfect day.

Puddles and I, we just don't get along very well.

Of course the rain wasn't the real problem I had to face. Today was just one of those days I questioned my decision to be a journalist. I was downtown to research for my next article for _Newcastle Weekly. _I've never considered myself as a people person; always more of an observer, which is probably what allowed me to be a decent journalist. However, journalism wasn't only about observing, it had a lot to do with taking action. I wasn't so good at that part.

On top of feeling uneasy about my upcoming appointment, I couldn't find a decent parking spot near my destination. Consequently, I had to park my rusty car in a side road and walk the few blocks to the building of _Gateshead Windpower._ The drenching rain fit perfectly with my mood as self doubt was dripping heavily into me.

Taking a deep breath I tried to focus. _Gateshead Windpower_ specialised in renewable energy and was one of the biggest companies in town. Ben, my boss at the paper, and for some reason a firm believer in me, insisted that our readers should be informed about all the background behind such an important and respectable business. To be honest, I couldn't see the respectability in the company at all. Sure, wind power is a good thing, but I was pretty certain that the main goal of this company was to make money and not to save the world from global warming. Just like any other company.

I was supposed to interview the firm's CEO, Edward Cullen. Of course I had done research on him in preparation for my article. I was quite good at research. I guess I got that talent from my dad, Charlie, who had just retired from being a cop. Even so, there was not much to find out about Edward Cullen beside the obvious "went to university, became CEO after his well respected father died" blurb. However there were pictures of him. A lot of pictures actually.

He looked like someone who would just prove my point. He wasn't bad looking by any means. Not at all. Actually he was really handsome. But in every single picture I'd seen he looked bored out of his mind while wearing a formal black suit. Just like he couldn't care less about all those great windmills he was selling. No passion for saving the world with his products. Nothing. It was all about making money for him, I could just see it in the lackadaisical expression on his face. Still I was afraid his more than good looks would intimidate me enough to ruin the interview. That or he'd actually bore _me_ out of my mind.

When I finally arrived at _Gateshead Windpower,_ my jeans – thanks to the rain – were soaked through up to my knees and both of my arms were a little damp. _Lovely._ I shook my red umbrella in front of the door before I walked into the warm and dry building. A quick glance on my clock told me I was already a little late. Just my luck. A young woman was sitting behind a wooden desk at the side of the foyer and I figured I could ask her where I needed to go.

As I approached her table, she looked up and plastered a friendly smile on her face. "Hello Miss, how are you?" she asked in a formal but kind voice.

"Fine, thanks," I replied automatically, not for a second considering how I really felt.

"How may I help you?" the receptionist went on with business.

"My name's Bella Swan and I'm from _Newcastle Weekly. _I have an appointment with Mr. Cullen," I answered her, smiling politely myself.

"Of course. Just take the elevator to the third floor and turn left. You can't miss his office and I'll let him know you're here," she said as she grabbed the phone beside her and dialled a short number.

I thanked her and turned around toward the elevator. A few moments later its doors opened and I walked in. I have this thing with small, enclosed places. I'm not really comfortable with lifts, but I usually brace myself enough to not scream and run away as fast as possible.

I pressed the button for the third floor and anxiously watched the numbers turn at the digital display. I counted the drops of water from my folded umbrella, building a tiny puddle on the floor. _Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven... T_he doors opened at last and I was about to hurry out of the cabin, when my way was blocked by a tall man.

"Um, sorry," he said, stepping aside and making room for me to go past him.

"No worries," I answered and that's when I looked up at the man's face.

There he was, standing in his black suit and of course looking incredibly gorgeous, Edward Cullen. He looked down at me, his green eyes sparkling, then grinned a little and motioned for me to go forward so he could get into the elevator.

I was looking at him, dumbfounded. I probably lost eighty percent of my brain function because I couldn't think anything straight. When my brain had recovered slightly I finally wondered why the hell he was going into the elevator when he was supposed to meet me for my interview at this very minute. Just before the doors closed again, I waved my hand in front of the door mechanism to stop it from closing.

"We have an appointment," I stated flatly, trying to keep the confusion out of my voice.

"Oh yeah? Unless you're very tasty and called lunch I don't think that's true," he answered, a smug smile on his lips.

I swallowed hard, not really sure what to make of his behaviour. "Actually, I'm called Bella Swan and you are supposed to give me an interview for my article." _Wasn't he supposed to be professional?_

"Right, the reporter for _Newcastle Weekly_?" he remembered, looking at his watch. "I believe that our appointment was about fifteen minutes ago. You didn't show up on time. Now I'm hungry and out to lunch. Just make a new appointment with Jessica at the reception," he said casually and I felt my mouth fall open.

Was he being serious? His gorgeous face suddenly didn't look anything but arrogant and snotty, but still it was perfect, which annoyed me even more. There was no way I'd let him ruin my mood for no reason at all.

"Excuse me? I'm here now and I want my interview," I said, not wanting to reschedule the appointment and definitely not caring about politeness anymore. I had zero patience and probably exaggerated a little by pointing my umbrella at him. Well, if he could be an ass, I could be one too.

The doors of the elevator were about to close once again so I quickly entered the cabin and stood right next to him. As I realised how close I was to his body, and how small the room suddenly seemed to be, I stepped aside and leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator. I was looking down at my feet, which were still very wet. With eyes glued to the floor, I noticed him leaning forward, grabbing past me and pushing the button for the parking garage floor. He sighed deeply.

"Well, you're kind of annoying, but if you are so determined to ruin my lunch break, you are free to accompany me to the restaurant. It's always a little boring over there."

I began to contemplate my choices. He was the most arrogant and unfriendly person I had ever met, but that was exactly what I'd expected, so no big deal. However, he was also the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. None of those pictures I googled did him justice. Even with the arrogant attitude on his face he looked outright amazing with his messed up hair, those deep green eyes and his stupid superficial looking suit. Anyway, going to lunch with him to keep him from boredom was the last thing I wanted to do. But the prospect to get this over with quickly was just too good. So I made my decision.

"Thanks very much for inviting me. I would love to ruin your lunch!" I said, looking him straight in the eye while sarcastically mocking his earlier tone. He seemed surprised that I actually accepted his offer but nodded briefly and remained silent.

We exited the elevator and I followed him out into the dark parking garage to his shiny silver car, which fit him perfectly. Good-looking, but boring. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye before he went right to the passenger seat door, opened it and made an overly dramatic hand gesture for me to get into the car.

"Please have a seat," he said and I wasn't really sure if he was serious with his chivalrous gesture.

I figured he wanted to get on my good side again for being so rude and arrogant before. After all, I was going to write an article about his company and he was the one responsible for public relations. So I let him have his fun and got into the car. I fumbled with the seatbelt and before I had fastened it, he was seated beside me and started the car.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he drove out of the garage, my feet stretching towards the warm air circling the foot space.

"Marco Polo. They've got some great Pasta over there. I hope you don't mind Italian food?"

"No, I love Italian, but would it matter if I said I didn't?"

"Probably not," he chuckled, "but you won't find out for sure, now that you already told me you don't mind."

"Yeah, right," I said, not feeling the need to talk with him any further before we would reach the restaurant. Apparently he was through with the talking as well, because he decided to turn the radio on. I looked out of the front window, envying him for his car's soundless wipers. One of the main reasons I listened to music in my car, was simply to drown out any weird car noises.

Edward Cullen wasn't the type being bothered by things like that.

He began to thump his fingers on the steering wheel absent-mindedly. I realised which song was on; Oasis' 'Wonderwall'.

"Seriously?" I asked him laughing quietly.

"What?" he asked, turning his head in my direction.

"You're a fan of Wonderwall? I wouldn't consider you a Wonderwall kinda guy."

"What's wrong with Wonderwall?" he asked, clearly a little annoyed by my mocking tone.

"Well, it's totally overrated. All the roads are winding and the lights are blinding. That's just plain and boring. Exactly like the melody. It's absolutely predictable. _Oasis_ is cool though. I mean they've got some good songs up their sleeves."

"And those would be?" he challenged.

"'Live Forever' for example. _That's _a great song!" I answered and it was true.

"Yeah it is, but I don't know how you could say that 'Wonderwall' is boring. The melody is outstanding and just because they play it on the radio and you, the radio-listening-girl you are, have listened to it a few times too often, doesn't mean it isn't a good song. The lyrics may be simple, but they're true and honest. 'Live Forever' is a good song, but, you know, who really wants to live forever? That's just a childish wish."

"How would you know what kind of girl I am? You don't even know me. And of course they don't want to live forever, that's just a figure of speech. He's singing about those deep connections, which last a lifetime and maybe even longer. You know, friendship and love," I said without thinking it through.

It was kind of weird to talk about friendship and love with some business-guy you just met. A business guy that obviously had no idea what those two words meant.

And as if to prove my point, "Ridiculous!" was the only reply I got.

I don't know where my new found boldness came from, but I guess there was something about him that made me talk more than usual. I felt the undeniable need to defend my point and put him in his place.

"That's so typical. Already you're out of words. 'Wonderwall' is the favourite song of _everybody_, I guess I know who the radio-listening-girl is in this car."

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and I could feel that he was trying to prevent a wordy outburst.

"Actually that's not true. Oasis just made a survey on their website and their fans voted 'Live Forever' on the top of their favourite song list. So actually you're the one who floats with the current," he said rationally and I nearly had to laugh at his seriousness on this topic.

"Yeah, they voted 'Live Forever' because it is their best song. Simple as that! It's just because you obviously don't know anything about music that you can't see that fact," I stated and his eyes narrowed visibly. He stayed quiet for the rest of the drive, which kept me worrying. For a moment I even thought I'd gone too far... but he really deserved it, so I didn't apologize. And besides, no one should apologize for the truth.

When we finally arrived at Marco Polo I gasped. This was quite a fancy restaurant and I quickly thought about the contents of my wallet, but decided I would simply make him pay. After all it was his fault I was here. He parked in the lot behind the building and we walked the few stairs up to the entrance. For a moment I thought he might open the door for me like he did with his car earlier, but the frown on his face was still in place and clearly he wasn't in the mood to play the overly polite gentleman anymore. So he just pushed the door open and walked in and I trailed behind him like I wasn't even there.

The waitress of course greeted him by his name and seemed eagerly ready to kiss his ass the second he asked for it. I think she was a little shocked when she realised that I was actually accompanying him for lunch. She gave me a quick once-over and stuck her nose up in the air while she led us to the table. I considered calling the great Edward Cullen _'Honey'_ or something as sappy, just for the fun of annoying her and cracked a smile at the thought of it. Once we were seated and looking at the menu I still had that smirk on my face.

"What?" he broke the silence, clearly irritated.

"Nothing." I smiled and put my nose deeper in the menu.

He sighed deeply and laid his menu aside. The waitress, needless to say, immediately appeared, beaming at him. "Are you ready to order Mr. Cullen?"

God, I really wanted to vomit. He ordered some of the pasta he spoke of earlier and I decided I'd go with pizza. Once the waitress left, I tapped my fingers on the table.

"I think we should start with the interview now." I was anxious to get my work done, not to mention that I tended to run out of patience very easily. I quickly pulled my notebook and a pen out of my bag. I know, I get looks for that all the time, but still, I like to get my work done the old fashioned way. Which meant, of course, no voice recorder. Although, and I don't know where that thought came from, his velvety voice would probably sound pretty nice on a tape. My voice however? Not so much.

When I had all my things arranged in front of me, I looked up just to see a crookedly smiling Edward Cullen sitting across from me.

"Is this how journalists work these days?" he asked accusingly with another glance at my notebook.

"Do you have a problem with my methods? I would rather just start with my questions now," I tried to ignore his rude attempt to offend me.

"Nah, no problems, I was just wondering if you're able to ask me questions, write down the answers and eat at the same time. I mean I've heard of multi-tasking before, but...."

"I don't believe that's your concern, Mr. Cullen," I interrupted him, "I think I can manage."

To say I was annoyed by now was a great understatement. I took a deep breath and tried to continue as professionally as I could. I straightened up a little more and proceeded. "The purpose of our meeting today is to give our readers an insightful view into the work that you've been doing at _Gateshead Windpower, _so I will start with a few general questions."

Once I had started getting down to business I was fairly calm. From there on I hid myself behind the façade of the fearless reporter Bella Swan, while Edward Cullen seemed to get into his CEO mode. He didn't look as deeply bored as he looked in all those pictures I'd seen, but he certainly didn't put any heart in his work either. Everything he said seemed slightly recited.

After listening to his interesting, but still calculated answers, the journalist in me decided I would try to get him out of his routine.

"It looks as if there has been an interesting development lately by _SkyIsOpen_ with their attempt to harvest wind energy differently. Where exactly do you and your firm stand on this issue, Mr. Cullen?"

I think this was a first during our interview, I really had him speechless. I did a little invisible victory dance. Meanwhile he stared directly into my eyes, like he was looking for the answer in there.

"You have been doing your homework," he seemed to play for time. "Of course _Gateshead Windpower_ is very interested in the development that _SkyIsOpen_ has been doing. But I'm afraid, that due to the secrecy of our own development, I can't answer your question right now."

I was guessing he had no idea what _SkyIsOpen_ had developed. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't the windbelt technology completely supersede the turbines your company is mainly producing?"

For a second he looked shocked. "You've raised an interesting point there," he said, getting back into his easy CEO mode, "But I'm afraid the technology you've been talking about is only half baked and industrial use doesn't seem to be cost-effective so far."

He bluffed. I could sense that. But right in that second the waitress reached our table with the food we had ordered earlier. My pizza smelled delicious and so I dropped the subject and began eating. "Mmmh." A sigh escaped my lips. It tasted even better than it smelled.

I heard him chuckle softly and I blushed a little, embarrassed. It somewhat bothered me that he had caught me off guard.

"For such a fancy place the food is really tasty." I shrugged.

"I'm glad you like it," he said honestly. He took me by surprise there. He seemed to be completely relaxed and enjoying himself.

"So," he began with steady and curious eyes. "Bella Swan," the way he said my name made me gulp, "what do you think will the weather be like tomorrow?"

_Unbelievable. The Weather? _

He grinned mischievously at me. I couldn't help myself anymore and laughed out loud. His dumb attempt to make small-talk relaxed me completely. He joined me laughing and our conversation continued at ease. I realised he was actually quite nice to talk to and I had a great time arguing with him about the most stupid things. His good looks really did intimidate me, but surprisingly I managed to hide my social awkwardness pretty well around him. When we were finished with our meal he voluntarily paid for our dinner without hesitating. I did the polite thing and thanked him.

* * *

**Edward Cullen**

It was early afternoon and I paced behind my desk in the overly ample office, waiting a little impatiently for a reporter of _Newcastle Weekly_, the most read weekly paper in the city. My stomach made disgusting noises already and images of delightful smelling pasta appeared in front of my inner eye. I was hungry and troubled. The latter because I just finished talking to my mother on the phone. Esme was probably the kindest woman on earth but her words always seem to make me feel guilty. It's not like she said anything to make me feel that way, I just knew she didn't approve of most of my actions.

My Dad had died two years ago in a car crash and that's when I inherited this stupid company. His death was hard on all of us. Esme didn't talk for days. She was beyond heartbroken and I considered hiring a psychologist, because I was so afraid she would hurt herself. She didn't want to hear any of it.

And me, well at first I was actually glad that I could distract myself with the work that needed to be done at the firm. But soon enough I realized that Carlisle was right all along: I was a big disappointment.

I knew, I should have cared more, the firm being my fathers life's work and all. Beyond that, _Gateshead Windpower_ surely served a good purpose; wind power, environmental protection, being anti-nuclear-energy and everything. And after all I should be grateful for the leading position I got; a lot of people would kill for that job. But I couldn't help it, it just wasn't my thing. Actually I didn't really know what my thing was, but composing music would be pretty high on that list.

My father, however, had been a good, passionate man with an ambition. He initially founded the company with an associate, but the guy backed out years ago. Business went just fine so he made it his goal to get me interested in his operations and insisted that I needed to study Business Administration. And because I didn't want to let his expectations down, I did just that.

When he died in that car accident, it was a given that I would continue his business and keep it as profitable as it was before. But to be honest, I was completely horrible at it. I relied heavily on my employees with all those accounting things, had absolutely no idea about the technical stuff concerning our windmills and consequently centred my own actions around showing up at presentations, just so people kept trusting in the company and in the name Cullen. I knew that wasn't enough and I knew I should have tried harder to lead this company, but in truth, I wanted the opposite. I wanted out. Badly. And my Mom had just told me again how proud Dad would have been, if he could see me in his former position as the CEO of a big company.

I couldn't stand it anymore. My office, the always ringing phone and the fact that the reporter, with whom I needed to do an interview, was late. I wasn't interested in talking to her anyway so I decided not to wait any longer, grabbed my keys and left the office. As the doors of the elevator opened, the little reporter was suddenly standing right in front of me. Her trousers were soaked through from the rain, as if she purposefully jumped into all the puddles she could find on her way. Besides that, she was impossibly pretty with her long brown hair and her red-coloured cheeks; but I was in a bad mood and didn't want to talk to her. Not at all and definitely not about work, especially not when she started gesturing with her umbrella, spilling drops of rain all over me in the process.

Furthermore she was late and annoying, hence I was an asshole to her. That didn't keep her from coming with me to lunch, which genuilly surprised me. My first impression of her was confirmed, as she started talking about 'Live Forever' by _Oasis_. It was utterly bothersome. I mean, that is a good song and all, but seriously, it's not better than 'Wonderwall', which she kept insulting. Just because it's popular doesn't mean it's bad. And the she was really getting on my nerves, when she began to challenge my musical knowledge and told me that I didn't know anything about it. That was definitely worse than when she challenged my business knowledge, which she did as well during the interview of course.

_Yeah, I guess that interview went _really _well._ It didn't start so bad. She asked questions I had answered so many times before that I knew the answers by heart. It was too easy and she even seemed honestly interested in everything I said.

But then something changed and she began asking questions about some company inventing windbelt stuff and I was lost. Not only lost in the question, but also in her beautiful deep brown eyes that had a cute mischievous sparkle in them as she asked those questions. I stared at them a little too long before I realised that she was just being mean and tried to purposefully make me look bad. And I couldn't have that, so I invented things about secret product development and the cost-efficiency of those inventions by _SkyIsOpen, _one of our biggest rivals on the market. I wasn't sure if she believed a word I said, but at least she didn't call me out on it and even changed the subject to the delicious food. And that was definitely one of the few topics we would agree on. Marco Polo was one of my favourite restaurants in town and by the look on her face as we entered, she had never been there before.

I saw my chance in getting out of this business talk and asked her about the weather of all things. I knew that was somewhat weird, but when she just started laughing I couldn't help it and joined in. The rest of our conversation went smoothly and I wondered what it would be like, if this wasn't an interview meeting, but a date of some sorts. Maybe I would try to be funny just to make her laugh more often, because she really was beautiful when she did. Between all her annoying questions and insults, Bella Swan was an intelligent and lovely woman.

I drove her back to the office, where I assumed her car would be parked and she instantly left, waving a short goodbye. I should have ticked this off, move on to the next topic in my day, but that was easier said than done. It had felt too damn good to argue with her about the most stupid things. And about the non-stupid things like how amazingly great 'Wonderwall' truly is. Someday she would be convinced that this song is nowhere near plain and boring. I was sure of it.

I sat in my car in the garage under the office building for a few more minutes to get myself concentrated on business again. There was a lot to do. I had a meeting coming up and needed to research this windbelt technique Miss Swan had mentioned. It really was embarrassing to know nothing about my company's industry when she obviously did.

As I was about to get out of the car and start work again after the lunch break, my eyes fell on the red umbrella, which was lying in the foot space of the passenger seat. _Her _red umbrella. I instinctively grabbed it, took it with me out of the car and up to my office, where I laid it onto the windowsill. The windowsill under the same window I was looking at from my desk. All day long.

In the beginning I didn't care. I attended the meeting in one of the conference rooms and it was a little boring, but I got through it anyway. When I returned to my office, things got really annoying. I tried to concentrate on my computer screen but every few minutes my eyes fell on the red umbrella on the windowsill. I needed it gone. So I stood up, grabbed the umbrella and put it into the drawer of my desk and closed it.

Much better. Out of sight, out of mind.

I began my research on the windbelt technology again. There were lots of information on the internet and I finally decided to write something down to memorize it and prepare myself for future interviews. Maybe I should even go to our engineers and ask them, if this would be a good alternative for us. So I searched for a pen and therefore opened the drawer. And there it was again. The little red umbrella in all its glory. Suddenly it reminded me of the red sweater she had worn and I pictured her running through the rain outside, being soaking wet, drenched to her skin.

I needed it gone even more now. _Maybe I should just throw it away!_ But as I imagined Bella Swan asking for her umbrella and me explaining that I threw it away, believe me that wasn't a very nice mental image.

It was pointless. I got up and paced through my office like I had done a few hours ago for entirely different reasons and eventually made the decision to call her and tell her that she should come and get it. It was still there in my hands, reminding me of our mocking conversations and her witty remarks and again I pictured myself on an actual date with her. And that was really weird, because I haven't pictured myself on a date for years by now. I think I got over this whole relationship-thing when my father died. All these feelings weren't worth the hurt you get when it's over. Although, maybe if you just keep it on the surface and don't get involved too deep... .

My carefully arranged reasons were falling apart already.

Eventually I decided I would bring the umbrella back to her and ask her out, because it was then that I realized that this little red umbrella captured my interest more than any woman had for a very long time. The only question left was, how was I supposed to get her to agree to go out with me again. Maybe I could convince her that she could use some more information about the company and maybe this time I could give her some more and even correct answers about the windbelt issue after my research. I wouldn't want to praise myself, but that was a great idea.

Perhaps I could also convince her that I knew so much more about Oasis, 'Wonderwall' and music in general than she thought. I didn't know why, but it really bothered me that she thought I was an idiot and couldn't find arguments to verify my point. And besides, I couldn't afford bad press for the company and I had the feeling that I messed things up. I couldn't do that to Esme. My pile of reasons to call Isabelle Swan was getting bigger by the minute.

I called Jessica over the intercom and told her to give me the number of Bella Swan and a few minutes later she got back to me with a work number and a mobile number. I confidently decided to call her mobile, because I wasn't in the mood to deal with her office or any other people whose name wasn't Bella Swan for that matter.

I had a little moment of doubt before I just pressed the numbers into the phone and waited for her to pick up. Three rings later her voice came a little breathlessly through the speaker and as soon as I heard her simple "Hello?" I decided to switch to flirtatious Edward and try to charmingly tease her. I used to be quite good at that and I desperately wanted to hear her laugh again.

"Hey little Wonderwall, this is Edward Cullen. We talked earlier today. About my company and, well, 'Wonderwall'." As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them instantly. Nobody likes pick-up lines and declaring her as _my_ Wonderwall of all things was probably the worst thing to do. I could hear the sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line as I used the little nickname for her and braced myself for some sort of outburst, which surprisingly never came.

"Yeah, I remember," she stated simply and ignored my teasing completely.

"Good," I answered, not really sure what to say next. I should have thought this through more precisely before I dialed her number. My mind raced but I couldn't come up with anything smooth to say.

"So, why are you calling?" she asked firmly before my incapability to make a conversation with her could lead to further uncomfortable silence.

"I just.... you left your umbrella in my car," I answered finally, a little unsure and no longer able to keep the confident attitude alive.

"Oh right, it wasn't raining anymore when I went back to my own car. I totally forgot," she remembered and didn't sound as annoyed as before.

"So...should I bring it over to you?" I wondered out loud, trying to get back the upper hand in the conversation and focusing on why I had called her in the first place: to see her again.

"What? No. It's just a cheap umbrella. Actually you can keep it or something. I have another one," she replied and by the tone of her voice she really didn't want me to come over, which just made me want it more.

"I like to drive around and it really wouldn't be a problem. I could just drop it off at your place," I tried again, hoping she would just give in already.

"Really, it's worth nothing and I don't need it. Maybe some other visitor of yours will need it someday, then you can give it away," she said, feeling clearly happy with her reasoning, but I wouldn't have any of that.

"It's just lying around here and I really don't like it when things lay around in my office. I should just give it back to you and the problem would be solved. I really don't know why you are so stubborn about this." _She_ was stubborn, but _I _sounded like a freak.

_I didn't like when things lay around in my office? _What a stupid thing to say. And the only thing I didn't like lying in my office was her umbrella, because it was pure distraction to me!

"I didn't know there was a _problem_!" she said, offended, but I knew she would give in soon enough. After a little pause she continued. "Okay, fine. I'll come by your office tomorrow and get my umbrella. Alright?"

At last.

"Why can't I just bring it to your place?" I asked again, this time just to tease her a little, because I was absolutely okay with her coming to the office. I could ask her out right here as well. No problem.

"Why should you? Listen, I'll come and get it tomorrow afternoon. Could you just hand it over to the receptionist or something?" she demanded and I was a little offended that she didn't want to see me at all. Did she really dislike me that much? This was going to be a real challenge.

"Yeah, sure," I answered shortly, but couldn't hide the victory in my voice. Of course I wouldn't hand the umbrella over. I wanted her to come up to my office again so that there was no way she could get away without talking to me again. What a perfect plan.

"Alright, thank you," she said and ended the call.

I sighed deeply. That wasn't half bad, was it? Okay, she didn't exactly respond to my attempts to get her out of her serious reporter mode and I didn't even accomplish my main goal to make her laugh again, but I got her to meet me and that was all that should count. Tomorrow would be a new day and I would make her like me.

I quickly saved her numbers in my mobile phone, just in case I would need them again and realised that I still held her umbrella in my left hand. That stupid thing. I looked around my office to find another place where I could hide it until tomorrow, but couldn't think of any. I finally decided I needed to get off work and drive home.

My penthouse wasn't really far from the office building, but I didn't lie when I told Bella I loved to drive. I went to the office everyday by car. I grabbed my keys again, took the elevator to the garage, slipped into my car, threw the umbrella on the passenger seat and.... wait, what? Yeah, I took the damn umbrella with me. _I guess I'm cursed or something._ _Great. _

I started the car anyway and drove the few blocks to my apartment building. After I parked the Volvo securely in the garage, I grabbed the umbrella and took the elevator to the penthouse on the 11th floor.

I wasn't happy with many things in my life, but I really loved this apartment. My Mom did all the decorating and due to that it was warm, welcoming and homey. Then there was the big glassfront in the living room, showing a spectacular view of Newcastle. Everytime I got home in the evening, I enjoyed the colourful citylights. I could see the impressive Millenium Bridge and even a little glint of the Tyne river, which always reminded me that the sea wasn't far away. I loved being at the seaside; it seemed to be the only place where I could feel perfectly free.

In front of that window stood my shiny black 1928 grand piano, which really was the most beautiful thing in the world. Not bothering to take off my work suit I laid the red _thing_ on the music rack, sat down for a few minutes and played some easy compositions and messed around with a few new melodies that flew through my mind.

That worked the magic; I finally calmed down a bit and got my thoughts rearranged. I left the umbrella there on the piano and went to bed early. Tomorrow would be important, and who knew, maybe it would even change my life. I didn't know at that moment how true that was.

* * *

Chapter title and songs are obviously borrowed from the amazing Oasis and their song Wonderwall.

GatesheadWindpower and SkyIsOpen are two completely imagined companies, but the windbelt is actually a real technology. We did our research homework as best as we could.

And on a personal note: Seriously, who could decide between Wonderwall and Live Forever?


	3. Conscience Is Sinking In

**Disclaimer: **We don't own anything, but will forever fight to make Edward Cullen ours.

R.I.P. Oasis

Our super-fast, super-prolific and overall wonderful beta, who has amazing skills in punctuation is called Brianna and you should all go and read her stories as well.  
Big thanks to her!

Also thanks to every single one who read, who reviewed and who put us on alert. We feel very honoured!

* * *

_**Chapter 2 – Conscience Is Sinking In**_

pretend to be the best that I can be  
wishful thinking  
my conscience is sinking in  
I'm embarrassed of myself  
I turned into everything  
that I hate_  
(Pretend To Be - Get Well Soon)_

**Bella Swan**

"Bella," Ben shouted all the way from across the editorial office, "I need the Gateshead thing in sixty, okay?" I nodded, still typing rapidly. "Bella, you heard me, right?" I rolled my eyes and waved in his direction, "Yeah, alright." Truth be told, I was nowhere near finished with the article on _Gateshead Windpower._ Ben, the editor in chief, was even more nervous than me, because usually I planned ahead and had everything finished a day early. "Guess what, I'm not getting any faster with you asking me about it every five minutes." In reply, Ben slammed the door to his office shut.

Anyway, the next issue of _Newcastle Weekly _was out tomorrow. And my article containing the interview with Edward Cullen would be in it - come what may. Good thing, that writing was the one thing of my job I liked best. It came somewhat natural for me - I guess reading non-stop in your youth does that to you. Once I've made up my mind about what exactly to write, the words just write themselves really.

Today's hectic was getting me down, so I hurried to the fridge we had in the office's little tea kitchen to get some water and pickles. I know it's a little unusual, but pickles simply are my comfort food. Anybody else really should just stop teasing me about it and eat their chocolate bars or whatever works for them. I'm just not a sweet person. Go figure.

On my way back through the hallway, I heard my mobile ringing faintly in the distance. Quickly I jogged back to my desk, searched for that stupid small thing under all the stacks of paper I had built in the last few hours while writing. Still a little out of breath I finally found it and answered the incoming call, not recognizing the callers number on the display.

I leaned against my desk and listened to Edward Cullen naming me his little Wonderwall.

_He could not be serious, could he? _

I admit, we had established a friendly basis by the end of our lunch, but this was simply not suitable. A lot of adequate answers raced through my mind, abusive terms included. But in the end I decided not to go there. If he wanted to provoke me, I wouldn't do him the favour to respond to his lame attempts. I took a reassuring breath before speaking to him in my best simple and disinterested voice. We just did the interview a few hours ago, so why the heck was he calling me now anyway? I had no time for this, there was an article waiting to be finished.

I felt the need to face palm. _My umbrella. _I forgot all about that little thing.

Angela looked curiously in my direction, so I sat down and faced the screen, hiding my already crimson face. _How embarrassing. _I was giving him trouble because I wasn't able to look after my belongings properly. Before I could say anything else he offered to get the umbrella back to me. I couldn't allow that, it wasn't worth the effort. He was probably busy enough, without taking care of my umbrella. And then the conversation got odd.

_Seriously, he liked to drive around? What kind of hobby was that? _

Ah right, the kind of hobby an arrogant CEO would have. I rolled my eyes and stopped my mental monologue. He should just keep it or give it away, that would be the easiest for both of us and I really wouldn't mind. I was avoiding an awkward situation for both of us.

But it seemed that Edward Cullen, besides spending his time driving around and not liking things lying around in his office, also wasn't one to give in. Of all things, _he _had the nerve to call _me_ stubborn.

I lost most of my self-control then and let his insult have an effect on my tone. He was making a problem, as he liked to call it, out of nothing at all. I had no more time for this pointless nonsense so I gave in; anything to end this conversation that was freaking me out. I needed to get back to work, and agreed to get the umbrella from his receptionist the next day. I slammed my phone shut and emptied my glass of pickles at once.

That however didn't turn out to be a very good idea, because I was in serious need of more pickles when I tried to finish the article. Gateshead Windpower's plans for offshore wind parks and all the things Edward Cullen had told me about the efficiency of wind energy had really impressed me. Even though I was well aware that he had only stated his memorized facts, they were good facts and I felt the need to support those things. However his call had just reminded me about his cocky behavior and that he didn't know anything about alternative technologies or things that went deeper than his superficial knowledge. So I did not bother with flattering remarks, but wrote an objective article with just the right amount of criticism.

My priorly researched facts about Gateshead's biggest rivals completed the report and in the end I was pretty much satisfied with the outcome, even without the support of pickles. I reread the whole thing a few times and improved some parts before I finally sent it to editing.

After that I went to check with one of our editors, Angela.

"Hey Ang, I'm finished with the windpower article, check your inbox." Angela looked up from the screen, took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. Then she put the glasses back on and smiled at me.

"Thanks, Bella. I'll get at it as soon I'm through with Tyler's column."

Angela was the closest person I had to a friend. She was kind and intelligent and we went out to lunch from time to time or simply hung out after work.

"So I figure you're busy tonight?" I asked, offering her a sympathetic smile, as the issue had to go in print at 10pm the latest. "Not with your article, you know that Bella. I could give it in print unseen," she winked, "but however the other eighty percent of the paper still need to be edited. You have a nice evening! Maybe we could grab lunch together tomorrow?"

"Sure, sounds good. I'm leaving in a bit. Have fun!"

I went back to my workspace, cleared the mess on the desk a little and left the office. It was already late and I wasn't in the mood for any activity anyway, so I drove straight home to my two-bedroom apartment a little outside of town. Thankfully my car wasn't providing any weird sounds tonight, so I turned the radio off and deliberated the article once again in my mind. Had I been too hard on Edward Cullen and his company? I imagined asking Ben that question, and clearly heard him laughing at me. I sighed and pushed the thought away again. Ben had criticized me often enough for not having the guts to write harsh things about people. Sometimes I had the feeling that I was simply too emotionally attached to my stories.

My stomach growled as I hurried up the steps and entered the dark apartment. As I turned the lights, I permitted myself one last thought about Edward Cullen, relieved I didn't allow him to stop by with my umbrella. I couldn't imagine my crowded apartment mixing well with his CEO supermodel glory. Tormented with hunger I made myself a sandwich and settled down on the couch in my living room. Without further movement I turned the TV on and zapped through the channels, stopping on BBC to witness the thousandth re-run of Pretty Woman. The film was enjoyable as always until someone introduced Richard Gere as Edward Lewis.

Edward?

All jesting aside, how often had I seen this movie and never cared about or even noticed the name? Now I was pretty sure it was haunting me.

Before my vivid fantasy could give too much thought to Edward Cullen and his attitude towards prostitutes, I pushed the big red button on the remote and went to bed early; anything to keep my thoughts away from Edward Cullen.

Well rested I went to work early the next morning, grabbed the finished issue from a stack in the foyer and quickly looked it over. My article was on the second page and with the added pictures it filled the whole side. This was bigger than I thought it would be. I let myself take a closer look at the photos of Edward Cullen. The first time I had seen pictures of him I had been so sure he was an arrogant and boring idiot. Now that I had met him I was wondering how someone who got so passionate about something as irrelevant as Wonderwall vs. Live Forever could put on such an emotionless CEO-smile in every picture.

As I entered the editorial office I was greeted by a friendly clap on my shoulder.

"That is an amazing article you wrote there, Bella," Ben congratulated me. "I want you to research more on that subject today. People seem to love this. We already got a few calls concerning renewable energy from our interested readers during the morning. Maybe we'll do a series out of this. You could call _SkyIsOpen_ and ask for an interview or maybe... ah whatever, I trust you. Make something good out of this. I want another report until next weeks issue," he requested and before I could answer him or make a few suggestions, he was off to his more private office and shut the door. I groaned inwardly. This wasn't what I'd hoped for. _SkyIsOpen_ just came up because I wanted to tease Edward Cullen and figure out if he could keep his professional face through my critical questioning. I had mentioned them in the article because, well, they really did invent a great new technology, gut I felt absolutely no desire to research any technical details of turbines or something as boring. But when Ben sets his mind on such things, there was little room to negotiate, so I went for my caffeine fix and then I sank down behind my desk, unwillingly researching the internet and our database for anything that might be of interest.

Soon enough it was lunchtime and I happily headed out with Angela to grab a snack. Most of the time, we went to a little Café a few blocks down the street. We sat down in our usual spot and Angela filled me in with the latest office gossip. Time flew and we were already gathering our things again when I remembered the umbrella.

I explained Angela the situation at hand in a couple of sentences, leaving out all the stupid details and told her, that she had to go back to the office without me. Before our ways parted she gave me one more confused look and then I was off, walking the short way to the Gateshead building. There was no rain to be seen and just thinking about parking my car in one of those tiny spots near the company gave me a headache.

Around fifteen minutes later, the big automatic glass door of the office building opened and I went right to the reception desk. The same woman as yesterday was sitting there, her smile towards me way more fake than the day before.

"Miss Swan, right?" she remembered. "I've read the article you wrote."

"Oh, you did?" I said a little hesitant, because due to her tone I wasn't sure if I wanted her to comment on it any further.

"Yeah, I did," she stated not even trying to keep her polite smile in place anymore.

"That's...uhm... good? I guess," I tried as an answer, not sure what to respond. "Anyway, I just stopped by to grab my umbrella. Mr. Cullen wanted to lodge it at the reception," I finally said, to get to the point and leave as soon as possible.

"Umbrella?" she hissed disbelieving as if she wanted to question my mental health.

"I left it with Mr. Cullen yesterday and he insisted that I should pick it up," I said, although it was already clear that he did not hand it over and the receptionist had no idea what I was talking about. She raised an eyebrow and studied my face.

"If you left your umbrella with Mr. Cullen so you can show up here again, I have to disappoint you. He's in a bad mood right now and you are probably the last person he wants to see. So if this umbrella isn't made out of gold you should just turn around and never show up again," she insisted and I could feel my face get red with embarrassment and anger. Was this because of my article? It wasn't that bad, was it?

"I didn't leave it with him on purpose, if that's what you just implied," I felt the need to clear up, "but I want it back nonetheless," I continued, nowhere near ready to leave this hell-hole without that umbrella. If this was some sick game of Mr. Cullen I needed to cut him down to size. "Thanks for your help," I added with dry sarcasm,"I know where his office is."

Without another glance at her I turned on my heels and headed for the lift. I pushed the third floor button and because I was already nervous and pissed-off I didn't mind the tightness of the elevator so much this time.

When I exited the cabin, I realized I should have listened to the directions towards the headquarter of cockiness once more. I couldn't remember which way I was supposed to go, so by instinct I turned right and looked for a sign where his office might be. There wasn't any and after awhile of walking around I gave up and peeked into the next best open door on the hallway. A tall, brown-haired woman was standing in front of an empty desk, answering the phone. This was probably not her office because she told the caller that some Mr. Barth wasn't here right now and asked if she could pass something on to him. She recognized me standing in the door and smiled politely at me, gesturing me with one raised finger to wait for a moment. At the same time she was walking around the desk and towards the computer, typing at super fast speed. "I'm terribly sorry, but I can't find any record of that transfer right now," she spoke again, her voice sounding doubtful. "Would you please repeat to which account exactly?" She deeply wrinkled her forehead while writing something down on a notepad, "Yes, I see. So, there is a number missing and you need Mr. Barth to confirm the transfer to you." She stared intensely at the notepad while she listened to the answer on the other end of the phone. "Could you possibly repeat the name of the recipient and the amount for me, please?" I felt a little awkward still standing there and took a step back, but she again gestured for me to wait. "Yes, of course. I'll make sure Mr. Barth returns your call as fast as possible. Thanks a lot."

She said her goodbyes, ended the call, mumbled quietly to herself and then took her notes and got up.

"I must apologize," she said, turning into my direction.

"No worries," I answered with a shrug.

"Is there something I can do for you? Are you looking for Mr. Barth? I'm afraid he's not here right now," she asked with a friendly smile.

"Oh no, I didn't even know this was his office. Actually I'm a little lost right now. I was looking for Mr. Cullen."

"Ah Mr. Cullen, sure. Do you have an appointment?" she asked, her friendly face replaced by a slight frown.

"Uhm no, not exactly," I answered honestly.

"Now, this is an unexpected pleasure!" someone suddenly called from behind and I turned around to face a good-looking blonde tall guy around my age. "I'm James Barth, nice to meet you," he friendly introduced himself, holding out his hand for me to shake.

"Oh, nice to meet you, too. I'm Bella Swan," I replied shaking his hand. He gripped mine a little too tight and I was certain he was mad because of my article as well. For a moment I even thought about leaving without facing Edward Cullen at all. Measured by his employees he probably was the epitome of madness by now.

"I am deeply impressed," Mr. Barth stated seriously while his intense stare made me a little uncomfortable. But he had provoked my curiosity.

"Impressed?" I enquired not really sure what he might be talking about.

"Yes, well done article. I enjoyed it very much," he complimented.

"Really?" I asked doubtful, "I guess you're the only one around here to feel that way. The receptionist didn't seem to like it that much."

"Well, not everyone around here is able to take well-founded criticism I guess," he said apologetic, "some people just react a little emotionally, it's nothing personal."

I really didn't know what to say to that, because honestly I didn't really know if this wasn't personal at all. Also I didn't take compliments very well. So I just nodded briefly.

"So, do you want me to get you to Mr. Cullen's office?" the woman from earlier rescued me. She had been quiet for the past couple of minutes and looked at me expectantly now. I was about to take her up on her offer, when Mr. Barth addressed me yet again.

"Oh, you're doing another interview with Mr. Cullen then?" he asked smiling. Yeah right, I needed to face Mr. I-am-too-rich-to-hand-an-umbrella-to-the-receptionist again. Getting compliments from James Barth didn't seem too bad in comparison.

"Oh no, no interviews today. He's got something that's mine," I said not really in the mood to tell him the whole stupid story. He would probably think I'm plain dumb and since he just complimented my work I didn't want to risk that. Mr. Barth offered to take me to Mr. Cullen and I gladly accepted - I was so lost in this building that I appreciated all the help I could get.

**Edward Cullen**

When I arrived at work the next morning, Jessica, our receptionist and general dogsbody, handed me the newest edition of _Newcastle Weekly_ immediately. The usually brand new paper was crumpled as if the whole office had already skipped through the pages at least once. Jessica mumbled something about the second page and that swans were arrogant animals anyway, but I wasn't in the mood for her gossip this early in the morning and headed straight for the elevator and to my office.

I threw the paper down on my desk, walked around it and fell into my executive chair with an unmotivated sigh. Interpreting Jessica's facial expression, I wasn't sure if I wanted to read the paper at all.

Just as I was about to have a first look at the anticipated, and at the same time dreaded, article by Isabella Swan on page two, the ringing phone interrupted my intentions.

Esme.

"Edward, have you read the newspaper already?" she asked, her voice low and a silent accusation already evident in her question.

"No, not yet. I was just about to read it when you called," I replied, sinking further down my seat.

"Did you really say that the windbelt technology isn't cost-efficient?" my mother inculpated. "And did you tell the reporter that _Gateshead_ is developing something similar? You do know that that's not true, don't you?"

"Yes Mom, I might have told her something like that, although I'm sure she exaggerated. But yeah, the interview didn't really go all that well. I guess it wasn't my best of days." I tried to qualify my statements, but of course I knew I had royally fucked this up. The anticipation towards reading the article converged to zero, while dread dominated my bundle of feelings by now.

Esme's breaths came steady and deep. She wasn't mad. She never was. But her hope that someday I wouldn't screw up anymore and manage this company just fine, never died. And she sure as hell must be disappointed in me, although she had never openly shown it. But plain anger would be so much easier to handle than her silent disappointment in me. I handled anger before with Carlisle himself and could do so again. But it wasn't in Esme's nature to be angry with anyone.

After I had finished my degree a few years ago, Carlisle instantly offered me a job and expected me to take it, which I did like the good son I was. All my studying had been because of him and his business in the first place. He made me his assistant and I was expected to be a good boy and learn from him how to handle the company properly.

It was pure torture. I tried my best. Really. But obviously that wasn't nearly enough. And he told me so every damn day.

Then the accident happened and we never had the chance to talk about our situation and sort things out. From that moment on, I tried even harder to get the things to work out okay at the company, but apparently I still sucked and wasn't even able to give a proper interview.

"Sure son, don't worry," my mother interrupted my train of thoughts. "Maybe you could call the paper and ask for another interview to fix this?"

"Yeah Mom, I could do that," I answered, leaving out the fact, that Bella Swan was about to show up anyway in a few hours.

"I'm just concerned Edward, your Dad worked so hard for this." Her voice vibrated slightly, like it always did when she thought about Carlisle. I couldn't stand this right now, so I quickly excused myself and hung up shortly after. Yeah, I was the worst person ever.

Right after I hung up, the phone was ringing again. Some business partner was highly interested in the new technology we were seemingly about to develop. Since I had no idea about this at all, I gave him some lame excuse so I wouldn't have to elaborate right now. Excuses were the one thing I was getting good at.

And that's when my thoughts came back to Bella Swan. Last night on my piano bench with her damn umbrella in front of my eyes, I thought I needed to ask her out. I thought there was something about her that I needed to figure out. But today everything was different. She was responsible for my mother being disappointed, for our partners to feel left out of things and for me being utterly confused.

I looked at the paper again and opened it carefully as if afraid a jack-in-the-box might jump out of it. The whole page was full of _Gateshead Windpower_. The pictures she had used were old ones. Alice, the fiancée of my best friend Jasper, shot a few of them. There were no words to describe Alice. She was always in motion, never relaxing, never sitting down. I often wondered how she managed to keep the camera still for as long as it takes to make a good picture. But she was pretty successful in her job, having her own little studio. We often hired her for promotional shoots and the like. There was one of me at some trade fair in London and a few of our turbines and windmills. I had seen all of those before, so I finally began reading the article.

[...] Though he won't reveal details, Edward Cullen, CEO of local Gateshead Windpower, says his firm is developing a new technology itself. But since SkyIsOpen is already working on turning their promising prototype into reality, it seems more likely that Gateshead Windpower will only finish second best. Ironically Cullen, obviously undeterred by the apparent challenges of the possible replacement for his company's turbines, adds that the windbelt technology is "only half baked and not cost-effective so far". […]

I read the lines once, twice and a third time. Bella Swan hadn't believed anything I said. From the first moment she asked me about our new technologies, she knew exactly what she was doing and let me walk right into her trap. Truth be told, I was a much too willing victim, but she manipulated me nonetheless. She took advantage of me struggling with the right words. She knew I had been lying and now she wrote everything down, because she knew how it would affect me and the company.

What was the matter with her anyway? I hadn't even seen her again and my feelings towards her were changing so fast, my brain wasn't able to keep up. It was still a mystery why there was any kind of feelings towards her in the first place. After all she was just a girl, messing with my life.

At first I had kept her umbrella in my office, because I wanted to see her again and maybe tease her with some new nicknames. Now I was keeping the umbrella just to piss her off. I knew that was the worst idea ever and I had just promised Esme to get this shit right again, but I couldn't help myself. I was mad and _she_ was the one to blame for it.

I folded the paper and stuffed it together with the umbrella back into the drawer of my desk. That worked perfectly the other day. Well, at least for about half an hour.

For the next hours I answered a few more calls and intensified my research on the windbelt technology. I even called one of our engineers and asked him about some of the details of our products and instructed the head of our development department to build up a team of capable people to concentrate on new technologies. I still had no real idea what I was doing, but I had a feeling that something needed to change if we wanted to stay in this market. After I was done with everything and had a pretty good knowledge about the things going on, I was for once satisfied with myself and the work I had done. Lunch was well-deserved this time. Before I headed out, I tried to call Jasper, but as usual he was busy with his young patients. As a consequence I went alone and occupied myself with forming plans on how I could annoy Bella Swan further and simultaneously get her on my good graces again. This however seemed to be quite impossible.

After a semi-satisfying meal, I headed back to the office and waited for Ms. Swan yet again. I knew I hadn't said a concrete time, but it was already late afternoon and she should have been at my office by then. Maybe my plan wasn't as good as I thought it was. Maybe she was more stubborn than I expected and just went away without her umbrella once she realised it wasn't at the reception. Or maybe she wouldn't show up at all.

And then someone knocked softly on my door. Before I could answer, the door burst open and not the expected Bella Swan strolled in, but James Barth.

"James," I greeted surprised, "come in, what is it?"

He came further into the room and behind him trailed my gorgeous Bella. My animosity towards her disappeared instantly. One glance into her deep brown eyes and I was disarmed. My eyes darted from Bella to James and back. Why did they come in together? This wasn't how I had planned this. I wanted to talk to her alone. I needed to get rid of James.

"Oh nothing. The beautiful Miss Swan here got lost in the building and ended up in my office, so I offered to show her the way," he answered still grinning a devilish smile. But then I saw her lovely blush and apparently James saw that too. He immediately turned fully in her direction, smiled at her wide, broad and fake, then at me and then at her again. "She said you've got something that's hers, so maybe you should hand it over to her and then I can ask her, if she wants to go to dinner with me."

I'm not a violent guy. I never even punched someone before. But his stupid grin along with his inexcusable intentions were enough to make my hands vibrate under the table with the need to slap him and tell him to leave my office. What did he think he was doing, ruining the precious time I had with Bella and grinning like a fool while at it.

I was dumbstruck for a moment, not even sure I had heard him right, since the blood was rushing through my ears. He was not going to ask her out! Not in front of me and not at all for that matter. Her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, but she obviously found her voice sooner than I did, at least ignoring James' advances.

"Well Mr. Cullen, so where is my umbrella? It obviously wasn't at the reception desk." She glared at me with narrow eyes. I didn't even want to annoy her anymore; I just wanted to look at her and talk to her. No more arguing. This was so confusing.

"Right," I finally tried to clear my throat and find my voice, "I forgot to hand it over?" It probably sounded more like a question.

"So, where is it?" she inquired looking straight at me the whole time.

"Uhm I've got it right here," I said, opening the desk drawer and taking the infamous umbrella in my hand, careful to leave the paper hidden in the depth of the drawer. "But I'd like to discuss some other things with you, if you've got a minute?" I got out and forgot for a few moments that James was still standing next to her.

"If this is about the article, I'm not sure I want to hear it, to be honest," she answered as I tried to think of a topic to keep her in my office for a moment.

"Uhm yes, about the article...and something else. Would you mind leaving us alone for a minute, James?"

"Oh, of course. I'll talk to you later, Bella," he winked at her. _Winked._ I couldn't believe it. What was going on here? James was one of those shy accountant guys. He was always polite and friendly towards everyone, but I had never seen him flirt so shamelessly before. Well, maybe I had never really paid attention to his love interest. I normally didn't care about stuff like that around the office. Now I did why exactly? Right, Bella Swan and the unnatural attraction I felt towards her. And now we were alone again.

"So...," she trailed off.

I cleared my throat once again and gestured her to sit on the guest chair at the other side of my desk.

"Would you like anything to drink?" I asked her once she had seated herself.

"Oh no, thanks. Actually I'd like to get to the point already and go back to work," she replied still glaring at me. I called Claire anyway to bring some tea for myself, mostly to buy some time.

"Well, what's with the article?" I asked to fulfill her request and get straight to the point.

"Yeah, what's with the article?" she echoed acting all innocent.

"I had to deal with lots of business partners the whole day because of the things you wrote," I stated.

"So?" was her simple reply while she crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back in the chair. I was having ambivalent thoughts again. I was pissed because of her article and because of whatever was going on with James and her and on the other hand I still wanted to ask her out. As if that was even an option right after James had asked her out for dinner a few minutes ago. There was something seriously wrong with me.

"Well that's obviously your fault," I concluded, leaving my other thoughts out of this conversation for now.

"My fault?" she still acted innocent and leaned forward a little. "I just used the answers you gave me, you know." Of course I knew that, but that didn't help any.

"Well maybe you need a voice recorder after all to know which sentences to quote and which to better leave alone. Maybe the tone of my voice would've told you...."

"What?" she interrupted, which was good, because I didn't know how to go on with the sentence anyway. "The tone of your voice would've told me that you had no idea what you were talking about? Yeah, I figured that much even without voice recording. But thanks for your advice," she said sarcastically. "Is that all? Then I'd really like to go." She already started to get up, but this wasn't going to happen. James was probably still outside, waiting right in front of the door to further molest her. No, no, no I couldn't let her go just yet. _Think of something, Edward. Now._

And then Claire knocked on my door and came in with the cup of tea I ordered. I was momentarily distracted when she walked towards me. Bella used that moment to stand up fully and walked towards the door. The sight of her walking away was totally unacceptable, so I jumped out of my seat and tried to say something, but in the process ran into Claire and the cup of red tea, previously in her hand, gushed over my shirt and trousers. The hot liquid was everywhere, burning like sticking needles on my skin.

"Fuck Claire, can't you pay better attention?" I cursed shocked and not able to do anything productive. Then I heard a quiet giggle from the door, but when I looked up, I only saw a shade of brown hair swaying out the room. I returned my attention back to Claire. I felt my whole body shake out of anger towards nobody in particular. "Why is this tea red anyway? I hate fruit tea. How long have you been working here? Is there anything you can do right? Damnit. Leave, now. And make me some new tea or go home or whatever. I don't care. Go!" My fist slammed down on the table beside me, the wood vibrating with the raw force.

Claire gave me one more confused look before she turned around and hurried out of the room.

It was all just _peachy_! Bella was gone and there was no way that I was going after her, looking as if I had just peed myself. I definitely needed a new master plan. Completely vanquished I sank back down into my chair.

The tea had cooled on my skin, but the fabric of the trousers clung uncomfortably on my legs, not stretching with my movements. As I rubbed and twitched on the material, I contemplated my options.

I could call any reporter from another magazine to write a new article about us. That would please Esme and leave Bella out of it. I would give out some nice new information that would let everyone forget the Newcastle Weekly incident ever happened.

Apart from me.

I wouldn't forget.

I could call Bella. Her article would be more reliable and overall better and it would not only please Esme, but me as well. The only problem was, that there was no motivation for her to write another one. Our company wasn't interesting enough for two big articles in a row. Not when its boss was such a useless fool.

I had to try it anyway, though I wouldn't give her a call right away. I wasn't that desperate. Yet. But what if she was going to dinner with James tonight? What if I was wasting time with being to proud to just ask her. He would tell her more about the company and probably about what an incapable boss I am. Not that she didn't already know that.

Since this was getting me nowhere, I tried to solve the problems at hand first. I heaved myself out of the chair and snuck into the next bathroom down the hall to dry my still damp clothes with the built-in blow-dryer.

While I stood, balancing on one foot, the right leg held high so the damp area of my clothes reached the heated air, the door opened and in came the person I wanted to see the least.

Quickly, I lowered my leg and straightened my clothes first and then myself, but it was too late. James had already witnessed my all too awkward position. His eyes met mine in the mirror and I nodded once in greeting. He just strolled past me, his head held high and a confident smirk plastered on his face, never faltering. The smug look could only mean one thing: Bella agreed to meet him. He lowered his zipper while walking towards the urinal and if I had considered to ask him casually about his evening plans, I dropped this thought in that moment. I knew better than to humiliate myself any further that day. In no way would I ask him about Bella with his trousers down.

I washed my hands real quick, using too much soap, because I felt quite dirty with James in the room and exited the bathroom without further glancing at him or his reflection.

There was still a dark, wet stain left on my pants, but it was easily hidden under the desk, when I fell into my chair again. To avoid another lonely evening at the piano, I called Jasper. It was time to have some nice people in my life for once. He agreed to come over that night and promised to bring DVDs and food. Perfect distraction.

As I hadn't any meetings left and had been quite diligent this morning I wasn't in the mood for more work. Instead I opened google and found myself typing the name 'Bella Swan' into the search field. People do that all the time, don't they? Google themselves, google their friends, google their employees, google their, well, person of interest. And it was only fair. After all, she obviously did her research on me as well.

The first few entries led to articles written by her for _Newcastle Weekly_. She wrote about political news, business stuff and I also found a few reviews of local art exhibitions and music events she attended. I read them all.

All of them were very well-written and as far as I could tell they were profound and her intelligence and knowledge was shown in all of them.

No articles on sports though. She apparently wasn't into that.

Then, I clicked through the paper's website and found a page where they introduced their employees. With pictures. It didn't do her beauty justice, but she smiled rather cutely into the camera, although it was palpable through her wide eyes that she was uncomfortable with being photographed.

In a moment of weakness I did a right click and saved that little picture of her on my hard drive. Who knew when I would see her again in real life.

This couldn't be healthy. I was practically stalking her online. I quickly closed my browser and grabbed the first file on my desk to work on. That night I was probably one of the last ones to leave the office.

I wouldn't waste another thought on Bella Swan tonight. At least she took the damn umbrella with her when she had left my office earlier.

* * *

**Chapter End Notes  
**

Thanks a lot for reading.

Who do you google?


	4. At The Bottom Of Everything

Disclaimer: Twilight and it's characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. We just like the idea of Edward Cullen wearing a black suit all the time.

Brianna is still our beta-queen.

Special thanks to the lovely ladies Ayrina, CathCullen and Severn for providing awesome feedback and motivation from the very beginning. We owe you big time!

* * *

**  
**

**Chapter 3 – At The Bottom Of Everything**

there it is

we are only one push from the nest

we are only one argument from death

the sun rises, but the sun also sets

_(The Sun Also Sets – Ryan Adams)_

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

_She was about to ruin it all. I had no choice, this was the only way out._

_I hastily picked up the shiny paper knife from the desk and clenched it hard into my fist. The metal felt surprisingly cool against my skin. Without second guessing my actions, I stabbed it hard right into her chest. Again and again. Her brown eyes froze in horror while she didn't even have the time to scream. The blood sputtered out fast, her body trembled hard and finally slumped down on the floor. What a mess. The carpet would be ruined for good. _

_The smell of her blood swept over me. I needed to think straight. I could not mess this up, this was too important. This needed to work. Finally, I was about to get what I deserved, what was mine. What should have been mine from the beginning. _

_Calmly I fetched a tissue from my pocket and neatly cleaned the handle of the letter opener. If I've had more time to prepare this, I would've worn gloves. I considered lying the conveniently sharp item back to it's usual position next to the name tag on the table, but decided against it. It just looked more appropriate, pushed back deeply into her chest. I arranged it a little until I liked it best and took the sight in once more. I smiled, satisfied. _

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**Edward Cullen**

My night was cut short. Not that it mattered, I couldn't sleep anyway. Twisting and turning between the sheets, I wasn't able to find the right sleeping position all night. Constantly I kicked the blanket away, just to search for it a few minutes later, when my body got cold again.

During the early morning hours my restlessness was suddenly disturbed by Vivaldi's first movement of 'La Primavera' of the Four Seasons, signalling an incoming call on my mobile in the living room.

I turned some more and the thought of ignoring it was all too alluring, since the tune was soothing and always a beautiful listen. But when I came to think about it, there were only two reasons someone would call this early in the morning: something bad or something really, really good had happened.

I always expected the worst. What if something happened to my mother?

I rolled out of bed, 'La Primavera' already half through, when I answered the phone eventually.

What awaited me got me fully awake in an instant.

"Edward?" Jessica's voice cried on the other side of the line. "I.... there... could you...."

She was incapable of forming complete sentences and although I had witnessed this quality of hers before, she had never sounded so desperate.

"Okay, just calm down, please. Why are you calling? Are you at work already?"

"Please, there's ... so much blood."

Her words were muffled by her silent cries and I was getting more nervous by the second. _What was happening on her side of the line?_

"Blood? Your blood?" I asked warily, trying to get some more facts out of her.

"No. Please. I don't know what to do."

I gripped the phone a little tighter, pressing it closer to my ear, so I could understand her silent cries a little clearer.

"Jessica, stay calm. Where exactly are you? I'm coming, alright?"

"Your office," was the last thing she got out, before her sobs and cries made any further conversation impossible.

"Listen, I will hang up now, but I'm on my way, alright? Stay right where you are. I'm there in a minute," I finally pleaded, already looking around the room for some trousers.

Her behaviour scared me, but I hung up anyway to get to _Gateshead_ as fast as possible. I quickly pulled some sweater over my head, slipped my shoes on and was out the door in a minute. My thoughts were running wild while I drove through the still completely dark city. Why was there blood in my office? Had there been an accident? And why was Jessica calling me of all people, when she was absolutely stressed out. Her tone was so out of the ordinary; the confident attitude replaced with a stuttering uneasiness I couldn't understand just yet. What if she hurt herself? I should have told her to call an ambulance or the police or at least ask some more questions to get a clearer picture of her situation, but I wasn't any use when it came to emotional crises.

The rain slowed me down a bit and I thought about giving her another call to make sure if she was still alright and functioning, but I decided against it and concentrated my eyes on the roads instead.

I parked my car in the garage, jogged up the stairs, not bothering with the elevator this time and ran down the hallway to my office where I instantly saw Jessica cowering in the door frame, her arms curled around her bent knees. She shook and sobbed, her whole body rigid with anxiety, but physically she seemed unharmed.

I slowly approached her, but she just looked down at her feet, her upper body rocking back and forth apathetically.

Gently, I lay my right hand on her shoulder, trying to make my presence known and reach through to her. But she jerked away, her body getting even more tense with my movement.

"Jessica," I said as calmly as I could manage, "what happened? Why did you call me?"

As soon as the words left my mouth her whimpers increased, the fragile woman in front of me shaking as if the mere thought of whatever had happened was causing her pain.

I knelt down next to her and since she wasn't responding to anything I said or asked I began to look around for whatever might have caused her breakdown in the first place. The building was quiet during these early morning hours. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, until my gaze fell through the door into my office.

A motionless figure. A woman's body. Claire McNamara.

My left hand searched for the door frame or anything to hold onto, but it was useless. My vision went blurry and my eyesight out of focus. The image of Claire this afternoon, a cup of tea in her hands, faded into nothingness. White. Black. Colourful dots. I closed my eyes. How was this possible? Was this even real?

I concentrated on my breathing. In and out. No need to freak out. After a few moments I opened my eyes again and stood up, leaving a shaking Jessica behind to approach the quiescent form in my office.

There was blood _everywhere_.

_My_ paper knife was stuck in her chest, the blood that had poured out of her body and through her clothes already dried. The instinct reaction to grab her forearm and check her pulse seemed inappropriate when I looked into her stone-cold eyes. She was staring up at the ceiling with big, wide eyes, leaving no doubt that she was, indeed, dead.

My brain was trying to process everything, but it couldn't keep up with what my eyes saw. Suddenly, my stomach twisted and turned. I felt nauseous and couldn't stand any of this any longer. I instinctively turned away from her body, ran past Jessica through the hallway to the bathroom and knelt in front of a toilet bowl where the whole meal Jasper brought last night reappeared instantly.

I couldn't be sure if this was a natural reaction towards death, but I wasn't able to stop gagging until my stomach was entirely empty. Never before had I seen a dead body, not even my father.

I sunk back against the cold tiles, not feeling better in the slightest. It was like the world was suddenly not making sense anymore. Life. Death. Claire. Jessica. Office. Blood. Paper knife. Death. Death. Death. I grabbed my hair in frustration, kneading my scalp in the process. The life-altering thoughts that were running through my mind were too much. I needed one more minute by myself. Claire was not only dead, but killed. I had to mute my thoughts as best as possible and get back to Jessica. She was the only one who may know more.

I stood up, supporting myself with one hand on the wall and approached her again. She hadn't changed her position in the door frame at all.

"Jessica, I need you to answer me. Do you have any idea what happened here?"

I got down to my knees and tried to get a good look at her face, when she raised it fractionally from between her knees.

"No...," she sobbed once more and then continued shakily, "I came in early because I wanted to prepare the conference room for the early meeting with the investors." She stopped for a moment and more tears spilled out of her already red eyes. "I went to your office to download the presentations and then I saw... Claire... she was..."

"I know Jessica, I know," I said, hugging her briefly. "Did you call an ambulance or the police or anyone else beside me?"

She shook her head no and buried it between her knees again.

With another glance into my office, I got my mobile out of the pocket of my jeans and dialled 999. I tried to sound somewhat collected on the phone to get the urgency across, but probably failed miserably. There's just no way to report a murder in a nice way.

Some guy promised to send an officer over and I hung up and cowered right next to Jessica until the police arrived, trying to sooth her as good as possible.

The next hours passed in a blur. So many things happened at once. Cops and paramedics were rushing in and out of the building and next thing I knew I was sitting in one of our empty offices in front of two cops, explaining what happened during the morning. I couldn't really tell them anything besides me hanging over the toilet seat in the bathroom, but they asked for every single detail.

When I was done retelling my story they began asking questions. Why didn't I call the police right away? How close was I to Jessica? How close was I to Claire? And then they finally got to the bottom of everything: they asked me what I did last night between 9 and 10pm.

The look of disgust and repulsion on their faces was only one indication, but I just knew it by the phrasing of their questions: they thought I did it. They thought I had killed Claire.

Of course the cops said that this was a habitual question they had to ask, but they couldn't trick me. They needed a culprit to present to the media or to get a promotion or whatever it was they needed and I was the perfect match.

I told them I had been with Jasper at that time, which was only almost true. To be honest, he had not arrived at my apartment until 9:30. And as if they saw right through my white lie, they explained they needed to confirm this first.

"We need you to come to the station with us," the taller one said, standing up and leaning towards me over the table. "Detective Black will get the truth out of you soon enough."

Knowing I couldn't win this argument, I stood up as well and gave in to whatever they had planned for me, still too consumed by the images that were Claire's body covered in blood. The men framed me and walked me out the door into the hallway. Basically, they arrested me.

The office was full with people by then and everyone watched as I was guided outside by the two cops to their cruiser. Everybody glared at me but to be honest I couldn't care less.

I was guided down the stairs and past the deserted reception desk, the empty seat a reminder of the crying Jessica in the door frame.

"What happened to Miss Stanley?" I wondered, concerned if she was doing fine and got over her initial shock. I wouldn't put it past those officers to suspect her as well.

"She's talking to a psychologist right now. Was quite out of it, that poor girl," the taller police man answered and got into a more detailed explanation about what was going on with her.

But I zoned out as soon as we walked through the big glass doors and out into the open. Like a magnetic pull, my eyes focused on _her_.

Isabella Swan stood next to some officers on the pavement, involved in a heated discussion as it seemed. It wasn't enough to find a body in your office, no. _She_ had to be present as well and confuse my inner turmoil even more. _What the hell was she even doing here?_ _Getting the newest gossip about my company for her fucking newspaper? _Well, it must be her lucky day. Nothing better than sex affairs and murders to increase the circulation of a damn paper, right? She was fidgeting with her bag, getting a pen and a notebook out. _Just great._ There goes my attempt to get good press again.

And it was such a disappointment, too. The articles I had read of her were serious journalism, even the one in which she degraded me. And now she was standing in the first row like she was the reporter of some cheap tabloid. Flashes were lightening my face, but the officers guided me straight forward, ignoring everyone on our way.

I chanced another glance at her and surprisingly she looked right back at me this time. Her fingers stopped moving on her notebook and her big brown eyes just stared at me as if she was trying to figure out what happened. She didn't blink once. Shock, disgust and maybe a little pity were the emotions her face portrayed. I gazed right back at her for a moment, before I lowered my head down. I had already passed all those employees in the building but this was different. Back there I had been too wrapped up in Claire being dead, but now I was already moving on, thinking about me, thinking about us; the teenager in me wondering what the hell she was thinking of me.

The two police men more or less pushed me forward, into the backseat of the car and slammed the door shut right after me. I had no chance to take another look at her, before they drove me away to the station.

At the station I was led to one of those rooms you would recognise from criminal stories on TV. Fluorescence light, a simple table in the middle, one chair on each side and that was basically it. I was actually a little disappointed that there wasn't one of those one-sided transparent window walls through which the cops watch the suspects squirm. I guess the station here in Newcastle wasn't exactly comparable to those you see in American TV series.

I kept my mind entertained with stuff like that for about five minutes, before everything came crashing down on me again. Claire was dead. Brutally murdered even. Her wide open eyes stared at me as soon as I closed my eyes for a few seconds. And since my analysis of the interrogation-room couldn't push away all those fucked up memories forever, I needed to think of other things. Anything to keep me sane. Surprisingly, Bella Swan turned out to be the most pleasant distraction. Her and her persistent nature.

The cops kept me waiting in the sterile room for at least an hour, before anyone bothered himself with talking to me again.

"Well Mr. Cullen," someone who introduced himself as Detective Black began, after closing the door behind him, "we just talked to your friend Jasper Whitlock and he confirmed that he's been with you since 9:30pm."

He paused for a moment and sat down in the unoccupied chair across the table. With piercing eyes, he studied my face while I tried to keep every emotion to myself. I had no idea what he expected me to look like and what I was supposed to feel in a situation like this.

I mean, I'd known Claire for a couple of years and she had been a nice enough person, but we didn't really have any connection whatsoever outside of work. The whole morning seemed like a real bad movie or something to me. Exactly like this room. And I felt like an actor who wasn't allowed to read the screenplay before filming. I had absolutely no clue what to do, how to look, what to say. So I tried to be neutral. That seemed to be the safe choice.

I had no idea if that was what Detective Black saw when he studied my face, but he finally continued.

"We don't know the exact time of death yet, but due to the forensic doctor's first guess it happened between 9 and 10pm last night; there's a possibility that you killed her and drove home right after the act to welcome Mr. Whitlock at your apartment," the Detective stated as if it was a fact.

Straight to the point, I had to give him that.

"Well, I didn't kill Claire," I answered simply, because that was the only thing I was still absolutely sure of.

"If you say so." His eyebrows raised in disbelief. "So, when exactly did you leave the company yesterday evening?"

I sighed because - of course - I stayed longer than usual due to my research on technologies - and Miss Swan. But there was no need to go into such details.

"I left around half past eight to nine, I guess. I didn't look at the clock."

"And are there any witnesses for that?"

"Probably not. Most of my employees were gone by seven."

"And why didn't you leave around that time? Does that happen frequently?" he inquired sensing my weaknesses.

"Well, no. But I'm the CEO of this company after all. Sometimes there are things that need to be taken care of." Like google the reporters you're supposed to do interviews with. I was so pathetic.

"I see," Detective Black said, writing down some notes in his book. He was probably already thinking about more questions to corner me. He studied my face again before he suddenly stood up, left the room just to come back in with a little transparent plastic bag. He put it in front of me on the table and I curiously glanced at it. It was the paper knife from my desk with which I had opened my letters for the last couple of years. It was now covered in dried blood. Images of Claire's bloody chest flooded my mind and I had to look away. To avoid Detective Black's calculating observations I stared down at my folded hands on my lap.

"So I guess you recognise this?" he asked while taking his seat across from me again.

"Yes," I quietly admitted, knowing already where he would be going with this.

"Let me be honest with you, Mr. Cullen. Things don't look too good for you right now. Your alibi isn't airtight, the body was found in your office, she was killed with your paper knife and you were one of the first at the crime scene."

"Because Jessica called me!" I interrupted his summery of questionable knowledge. This was insane. He couldn't use everything against me.

Detective Black wasn't impressed with my objection and continued his accusations. "To top it all, you had a motive."

"A motive?" I was getting confused.

"Several people confirmed that you had a fight with McNamara just recently, Mr. Cullen. Do you disagree?"

"Hell yeah, I do disagree," I said a little louder than necessary. They would not get me in prison because of this. This couldn't be happening.

"No need to get loud Mr. Cullen," the Detective answered too calmly for my liking. "But that's what Miss Swan said when we questioned her. This temper seems to be a well-known attribute of yours."

That got my full attention.

"Wait a minute. Miss Swan? What does she have to do with this?" I enquired instantly, but tried to remain my composed and neutral expression. Bella told the police I had a fight with Claire? Did she believe I did this? Oh my god, I wished I had left a better impression with her. And commenting on my temper? In front of Detective Black no less? This was more than humiliating.

"She was apparently one of the last ones who saw Claire McNamara alive. But that should be none of your business. She just said you got into a heated argument with the victim about something as simple as tea. Isn't that right?"

"Well, yes." I tried to chose my words carefully now. "She brought the wrong tea and spilled it on my clothes, so I was a little irritated, but that's no reason to kill someone or is it?"

"You tell me!"

"No, it isn't."

"Alright then," he paused for a second, "but jealousy definitely is."

"Jealousy?" What would he come up with now? After all, it wasn't James who had been killed and he was the only one towards whom I possibly felt a little jealousy. Just maybe though and only a little. I totally forgot about him and his impertinence, though. Another train of thought opened up. Was Bella at Gateshead because of him? Had their night out been a success? This mess was getting more confusing every minute.

"Yeah, somebody told us you had a little thing for Miss McNamara, but your advances weren't returned," Detective Black interrupted my internal monologue. _What the hell? _

"Uh, what? Did Miss Swan say that as well?" She couldn't assume this, could she?

"Mr. Barth was so kind to let us in on that information. You see, all things are leading towards one direction," he informed me smugly.

Why was any of this James' business? He was getting on my nerves more every minute now. What was the deal with him lately? He had never held my attention for more than two minutes before and now he was all over the place, making himself quite unpopular in my book. I took a deep breath to calm myself.

"Oh boy!" I exhaled quietly. If I were a girl, I would dramatically roll my eyes now. "I can assure you, I didn't have any kind of romantic association, relation or desire towards Miss McNamara. I barely knew her."

"Well, Mr Cullen, I'm afraid your assurance won't be enough."

"What does that mean? Are you going to arrest me?"

"Yes, that's a possibility," he stated after a little pause for dramatic purposes and watched me carefully after that.

"Okay, I'm done. I'm not saying anything else. I want to talk to a lawyer or to my mother or anybody other than you right now," I enquired a little harshly. But it was true. I had sat in that room for hours now and this was getting nowhere. Just more accusations and stupid suspicions.

"Fair enough, but if you've got something to confess, you better do that now, because we will find out eventually." He glared at me with his dark eyes as if to hypnotise a confession out of me.

"I'd like to speak to my mother now!" I demanded again, because really, there was nothing to confess.

"Sure, actually she's waiting outside."

"Great, when did you plan on telling me that?"

He ignored me, stood up and walked out of the windowless, silent room. Again they kept me waiting for God knows how long, before my mother came inside, followed closely by Jacob Black.

"Edward!" my mother silently cried while running towards me and embracing me like only a mother can. "What happened, son? Are you alright?"

She loosened her grip around my torso to look up into my face. Tears were running down her face.

"Don't worry Mom, I'm fine. Please don't cry, everything's alright."

"I'm so glad nothing happened to you sweetheart. I was sick with worry when the police called me this morning."

"It's okay Mom. I was wondering if you can call Mr. Morrison for me. It looks like I might need a lawyer," I asked her selfishly. I wished I had more time and peace left to soothe her properly, but I got more and more scared of having to stay the night in prison throughout the interrogation.

"Sure darling, I already called him, but Detective Black here just told me that you're free to leave."

This information calmed me in an instant. When they allowed me to go, the evidence couldn't be _that _solid. But apparently Detective Black didn't believe in this 'innocent until proven guilty' thing, because he still looked at me as if I was dirt.

"You may go now, because there is not enough evidence to keep you here for custody, but don't you dare to leave the city under any circumstances and believe me when I say that we'll watch your every step. You are the prime suspect after all."

I just glared at him in response.

**Bella Swan**

The moment I stepped out of the _Gateshead Windpower_ building, I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and scream. Just _do _something to get rid of all my anger and confusion. I did the next best thing instead: I threw the annoying red umbrella in a wastebin. _Free at last. _

I took a deep breath and walked back to the paper again. A giggle escaped my lips, thinking about how Edward Cullen probably looked right now, with tea all over his lap. With satisfaction I thought about how people would think he had peed himself. That served him right. I still couldn't believe he held me responsible for his business failure. That... narrow-minded, arrogant weirdo was way too beautiful for his own good. I should send that woman from James Barth's office – obviously named Claire – some flowers to thank her for her intervention.

Also, she seemed to be the only person in that firm at least somewhere close to normal. The receptionist hated me, James Barth was slightly nasty and well, there was Edward Cullen. He had yelled at my saviour Claire pretty badly while I left his office. I cringed at the thought. I was way too clumsy and tripped all the time, too. I was sure, she didn't stumble on purpose either.

Back in the office, I went straight to the fridge, but it was useless. There were no pickles left.

"_Great,_" I muttered to myself and went to my desk. "_Awesome, windpower!_" I muttered again, as I figured what I needed to work on. My mood just hit rock bottom.

Thankful for some distraction I registered that I had a new e-mail. Life went well for my mother in Florida; she had attached a photo of herself and Phil in their backyard, surrounded by bright Gazanias. Her description of the flower reminded me a lot of my mother herself: they were of vibrant colour when it's sunny, but tended to close in wet or dull weather. Newcastle had never been the place for my mother to thrive and prosper, I guess. My trail of thoughts was interrupted when suddenly someone was touching my shoulder. I shrieked and jumped up, knocking over half the desk.

It was Angela.

"Oh Bella, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Are you alright?"

"Don't worry, it's ok. I was just lost in thoughts."

Angela smiled. "As usual." She was right, I spaced out quite frequently.

"So did you get your umbrella back safe and sound?" she asked, and I knew that she could sense I hadn't told her the whole story behind my second visit to Gateshead Windpower earlier. But she wouldn't pester me further. Angela was always nice and comforting like that and therefore it was easy to be around her.

"Yeah, sure sure," I replied, remembering only now that I threw the umbrella away, making a mental note to get a new one.

Angela of course caught the concerned look on my face.

"Did anything else happen?" She put her hand on the back of my chair and the piercing green of her armlet instantly reminded me of Edward Cullen's eyes. I felt the heat on my cheeks in the exact same moment as Angela chuckled.

I considered using a lame excuse just to make her let go of it, but couldn't bring myself to that. I sighed and told her the whole story, only rearranging a few parts. For example, why I had to go to the CEO's office to pick my umbrella up. Or why I blushed at the thought of Edward Cullen's eyes.

Angela listened calmly to my ramblings and although she normally isn't one to be especially inquisitive, she asked me, why I didn't take the chance to go out for dinner with James Barth. She knew I didn't exactly have a social life, which is not as sad as it sounds. Not really. I just didn't go out very frequently and liked being by myself. That's about the extent of it. I wasn't unfriendly or anti-social, I just didn't connect to a lot of people. Especially not to James Barth.

Angela understood and dropped the subject eventually. We continued our little chat with random topics and she told me that Ben was out of the office for a longer appointment.

_Just my luck. _

I needed to talk to him; I was absolutely unsure what he expected me to write, and I couldn't come up with anything good myself. My patience for anything regarding windpower already ran out for today anyway.

I went home quite early and had a lot of time on my hands. I breathed in the lovely aroma of coffee, rising from the hot cup in my hands. The cushions of my sofa were soft as ever and after a few sips of the hot liquid I was eager to start the new book I had bought a few days ago. My feet under a blanket, book in hands, I dived into the story in front of me.

After a few pages I gave up. I couldn't even remember the characters names, not to mention any part of the plot. My mind was drifting elsewhere. Did Edward Cullen_ really_ think it was _my_ fault that he screwed up the interview? Did he even bother to think about his own mistakes? Was his mind full of doubts like mine? Probably not.

These thoughts must have circled around in my head for a while, because as I took another sip of my coffee it was already cold. The bitter taste at least reminded me, that I shouldn't blame myself for other peoples problems all the time.

That however made me think of my father and as I was looking for some kind of distraction anyway, I picked up my phone and dialled his number. He answered happily and filled me in on his latest fishing trip. Charlie never used more words than absolutely necessary, but we had our own way of communicating with each other. I was relieved that he was fine – his recent retirement had me worried; he had always lived for his work.

Of course he had also read my article on _Gateshead_ and he quickly told me that he liked it. Windpower had become a boomerang lately, the topic kept coming back at me all the time.

After talking to my father and doing my laundry I couldn't find much else to keep me occupied and went to bed, hoping I would have a dreamless night.

The next morning the alarm went off pretty early and as I slowly woke, I remembered why: the last day had been highly unproductive. After I tossed and turned around in my bed for a few minutes, thinking about the upcoming day, I finally got up and showered. I put on some everyday-clothes and went into the kitchen. Not hungry in the slightest, I grabbed some cereal and put it in a bowl with some milk. As I was about to start eating, my mobile began to ring in its most boring old tune. I didn't care about such things; it worked and that was enough for me. I hurried to my living room and grabbed the phone off the table.

"Hello?"

"Bella!"

It was Ben. It was unusual for him to call me this early on a work day, since we had a conference in the office this morning anyway.

"I just got some interesting news, you will never believe what happened!" He sounded overly excited. That only happened when he got wind of a _big_ story; big as in really, really huge.

"Well then why don't you just tell me," I suggested. I wasn't much for guessing games.

"There's police all over the _Gateshead_ building downtown. Rumour is that there has been a murder."

Murder? My heartbeat increased instantly. All these years of being a cop's daughter didn't numb the horror rising inside me with the news of such a crime. I processed the message further: _Gateshead_? The face of Edward Cullen came to my mind. _Oh god, I hope it's not him._ I shuddered at the thought. Ben finally paused my mental rambling.

"Bella? Are you still there? I need you to go there and get as much information as possible, every little detail. Do you understand? This is big! Forget the other article, I want you to focus on this," he continued, but I listened only half-heartedly, not really glad that the dreaded windpower article had to be replaced by something as horrible a murder. "Sure, I'm on my way," I replied and after he told me he would send Ryan over for pictures, he hung up.

What if something happened to Edward Cullen? He had annoyed the hell out of me but that didn't mean that I would want him dead, _murdered._ I needed to find out. I rushed out of my apartment and right to my car, breakfast long forgotten. It was one of those very rare moments I wished I had a new, shiny and especially fast car. I simply couldn't get to _Gateshead_ fast enough. I rushed through town, only little traffic in the streets; at least until I got further downtown. I left my car in a no parking zone, because there was so much confusion in front of the _Gateshead Windpower_ building, that I hoped nobody would pay attention to my little misdeed. My mind was occupied with a lot of things - finding a decent parking spot was none of them.

The police had of course cordoned off the entrance of the building. Judging by the number of policeman and the general look of things the rumour about the murder was true. I nodded to our photographer Ryan, standing a few metres away and went straight to the officer standing next to the doors. It was Waylon, one of my dad's friends, who had babysat me sometimes when I was younger.

"Who's the victim?" I spoke under my breath. I didn't want to put him into any trouble.

"One of the secretaries," he responded almost unnoticeable. I let out the breath that I had been holding. I was relieved and felt guilty instantly; some poor woman had died and I was glad that it wasn't who I'd feared the victim to be. I thanked Waylon, turned around and saw another man approach me. His hair was dark, almost black, he was a lot taller than me and he had a slight smile on his face.

"Bella!" he said like he knew me.

Was I supposed to know him? I couldn't place his face anywhere. Since it is kind of embarrassing when you don't know one person's name, when he obviously knows yours, I avoided saying his name altogether, in hopes he wouldn't notice my lack of knowledge.

"Hey there!" I finally said and of course he heard the insecurity in my voice and saw the obvious blush claiming my face.

"You don't know who I am, right?" he asked undeterred and that made me feel even worse.

"I probably should, right? I'm so sorry," I confessed, looking down.

He instantly extended his hand in my direction and introduced himself as Jacob Black. His grip was firm, warm and comfortable but I still couldn't remember meeting him before.

"Your father introduced us a few years ago, when I was still in my training to become a police man. You became a reporter?" he asked, pointing at the little Press ID I had clipped on my jacket.

"Oh yeah, but I prefer the term journalist," I answered confused. I had so many questions about whatever happened inside the _Gateshead_ building last night that I was even less in the mood for small talk than on other days. "So, uh, Jacob," he looked so young and friendly that I couldn't bring myself to address him by his last name, "what's going on in there?" I tried to sound casually, but inside I was dying to know about all the details; and not only for the article's sake.

"Oh right," Jacob answered turning around to the building again. "Of course we're still investigating. But off the record...," he paused and I nodded quickly to show him that it was okay for him to talk to me confidential, "well, it seems like the woman was stabbed by the big boss."

_What?_ I gasped. "Boss as in Edward Cullen?"

"Exactly. Some of our people are questioning him right up there. It happened in his office, and she was stabbed with his paper knife - I will spare you all the other glory details. The receptionist found the victim a few hours ago," he rambled on with facts and I was at a loss for words. Edward Cullen? A murderer? Sure, he was a little cold-hearted, but - _oh my god, I just talked to him yesterday._ Maybe it could've been me instead of the poor secretary if I had stayed there longer. Oh no. Suddenly I remembered his stupid yelling at Claire. I needed to know. "Jacob, what's the victims name? Who was she?"

"McNamara, Claire McNamara. Why are you asking? You know I shouldn't even tell you anything in the first place."

"Claire...," I all but whispered in response. I shuddered as her face flashed before my eyes, I had left her alone with him.

"Bella, you alright? Did you know her?" Jacob turned to fully face me again, now with concern and curiosity in his voice.

"No, not really," I answered quietly, "I just met her yesterday, while I was in the office." I had been very amused when Claire had spilled the tea on Edward Cullen and now she was gone for good - and he may be the reason why. I was really, really glad I didn't get to have breakfast this morning, because by now I was ready to vomit; sadness and guilt filling my stomach.

"What do you mean Bella? You were here yesterday?" Jacob enquired and stopped my worrying. I nodded, not sure if my voice would be stable enough to talk.

"Well, I'm sorry but in that case I have to ask you some questions. You okay with that Bells?"

In any other moment I would have wondered about his intimate use of a nickname for me, but this was some kind of extreme situation. I couldn't imagine how my Dad had handled investigating murders most of his life. Thinking of Charlie, I tried to collect myself. He would want me to not mess up with the investigation and the facts. So instead of waiting for Jacob's questions I just told him what happened.

"I came back yesterday because I forgot my umbrella the day before when I was here. It was work-related." Still, I didn't want to tell him exactly how the whole umbrella thing went. "I met her while I was looking for Mr. Cullen's office." I avoided saying her name out loud; it made it even more real. "She was really nice and friendly and I appreciated her help very much." I took a deep breath before I got to the next part. "So I went to Mr. Cullen's office and got my umbrella. He had asked her to bring some tea, and when I was leaving she spilled the tea all over him. Accidentally, of course. I was already half out the door when he yelled at her really bad.. And I... oh my god... I even thought it was kinda funny how he was all enraged about something so stupid. It seems like he gets riled up about the stupidest things." I realised I was babbling and shut up instantly.

Jacob took a few notes and put his notepad away again. He had a serious look on his face. "Thanks, Bells. So I take that's all?" I nodded in silent agreement. "Good. I'm sorry but I need you to confirm your statement at the station, just stop by my office within the next few days."

I assured him to make an official statement later this week before he left towards some of his colleagues. There was so much information crashing down on me this morning that my mind was completely empty. I couldn't form any coherent thoughts. One minute I worried about him possibly being killed, the next he was supposed to be the murderer. Guilt was also a big slice, riddled with fear. I took a deep breath and decided that I needed to step back from the happenings a bit if I wanted to get my work done. I grabbed my notebook and a pen out of my bag to take some notes, just facts and observations; no feelings. I quickly scrabbled down a few lines and then got distracted by the sudden commotion around me. I looked into the direction of the building again and my heart skipped a beat.

_He_ was just being escorted out of the building by two bulky looking men in uniform. I barely noticed them as my eyes immediately met his. I tried to picture him, his angelic face and beautiful eyes, stabbing an innocent woman. When the police talked about him as the murderer, it was just words, now, as I looked into his eyes, the image just didn't fit. It couldn't be him. He was a rich, arrogant bastard and a thousand other things, but he wasn't capable of murdering someone. _There goes my attempt to not get personally involved in this story. _

He didn't look away and neither could I. His expression was tense and at the same time emotionless. But his eyes... his eyes were tired, slightly terrified and had the saddest look. I was paralysed and just stared at him until he was shoved into one of the police cruisers. It wasn't possible to look inside the car, so the uproar settled a bit. Everybody just watched as the two men got in as well and soon they weaved the car through the barriers, passing by the curious onlookers and were out of sight.

I wondered what would happen to him now. Would they arrest him? Would they arrest him because _I_ had told them that he had yelled at the victim? _Nobody gets accused of murder just because he yells at someone, right? _But the way they had taken him with them seemed like they were quite positive that he had done it, when I was ninety percent sure he hadn't.

Which brought me to another unpleasant thought: If it wasn't him, then _who _did it?

Ryan came over to tell me he was leaving as he had all the shots we needed. I felt even more sick as he happily announced that he had a great spot for the arrest and wanted me to look at the pictures right away on his camera display, so that I could appraise his work. I didn't want to, as it had just happened right in front of my eyes, and I needed no reminder. So I simply told him to meet me later at the editorial office, and that I had work to do here. I already knew I couldn't write my name under a article with pictures of Edward Cullen being arrested; it seemed wrong. My stomach clenched, Ben would probably fire me after that argument.

To avoid that, I needed to get more information. Information which wouldn't make Edward Cullen the only suspect and candidate for our headline. I surveyed the area, looking for my next move.

I saw James Barth standing in the foyer, watching me. I was torn between being glad to find a familiar face to talk to and well - it was James Barth. Before I made my decision, he was already through the doors, walking towards me, a vacant expression on his face.

"Bella! I had pictured our reunion under more pleasant circumstances," he approached me. As I didn't respond _– really, what was there to say -_ he continued. "I guess you've heard about Claire? It's such a tragedy! I can't believe she's dead. She was such a lovable person and a great colleague." James shook his head in disbelief of the events. I listened to him emotionless, pretending I was only standing on the sidelines of everything that had happened.

"Was she...," I asked "married? Kids? Is there a family?"

"Her family lives in Cornwall I think," he paused as Jacob was passing us, "she just got engaged. She was so excited about it yesterday when she told me. Guess not everybody was reacting too well to it," he said bitterly. Jacob must have heard our conversation as he joined us then. "I'm Detective Jacob Black, head investigator, may I ask you a few questions?" he introduced himself to James.

"Oh of course, anything that helps!" James agreed.

"Bells, would you mind?"

_Oh!_ Police investigation and all, I guess I was not supposed to listen.

"That won't be necessary. I'll be telling her everything afterwards anyway."

That seemed to be good enough for Jacob, so he began questioning James, starting with his name and getting on with how good had he known Claire etcetera. They soon came back to the point when Claire had told him that she was engaged yesterday.

"She was entirely happy about it. Though I don't know the guy, I was glad to see her so happy." He paused a little, like he was deep in thought. "How ironic, that her true happiness probably caused her death in the end," he trailed off. I wasn't quite sure what he was implying there.

"Mr. Barth, what do you mean by this?" Jacob articulated my thoughts.

James seemed slightly uncomfortable. "Well, it's not very known in the firm, because Claire felt awkward about it, but Edward Cullen, he had a thing for her and as she told me he couldn't take a no with her. So I guess he got the news about the engagement and freaked out or something. Jealousy can be quite a bitch. Lauren, she's an assistant in engineering, told me she heard him yelling at Claire yesterday and that she was crying afterwards."

I was completely baffled, my intention to gather information emotionless definitely screwed. _Edward had a thing for Claire? _I wasn't sure if this bothered me because it made him more suspicious or because he was attracted to her at all. I forced myself to pay attention to the two men still talking. Jacob was asking for details and names now. James only provided some of the co-workers and assured that he didn't know who the fiancé was. After that, Jacob asked him to get him to the woman named Lauren so he could question her as well. I was glad I didn't have to deal with James and his statements anymore right now, however I wanted to talk to that Lauren too. Unfortunately, she was obviously still in the building as the two men disappeared behind the doors.

When I was finally back in the editorial office, sipping my first coffee for the day, my feet were aching and my stomach was growling. My body felt the hunger, but I couldn't bring myself to eat something. The crime was still too deterring, too fresh. Death was something I never really gave much thought to, but it was out there, or rather _somebody_ was out there. Somebody cruel enough to stab a woman.

I shuddered at the thought and focussed back on the notes in front of me. I talked to several other employees earlier and no one knew about Claire having a boyfriend or even fiancé. Was it weird for someone to never talk about things like relationships during work? Well, who was I to know; I basically only talked to Angela about personal matters - still, I had seen Claire that day.

Aren't you supposed to be deliriously happy, all smiling and loving the whole world, when the one you love asks you to marry him?

There hadn't been anything like that.

The whole happenings seemed strange to me, there had to be something I missed.

I just didn't know what exactly I was looking for yet.

* * *

_**Chapter End Notes**_

_Chapter title obviously borrowed from the amazing band that is Bright Eyes._

_Again, lyrics in the beginning and story title borrowed from mastermind Ryan Adams._

_Gazanias are really nice flowers, very common, you can google it. _


	5. It's Only Your Life

Disclaimer: It's still not ours. Stephenie Meyer owns it all.

Thanks to Bri for being an amazing Beta, thanks to everyone who reviewed or put us on alert and special thanks to darcy13 and edaddict3254 for pointing out the different titles we gave Detective Black. Sorry for the confusion!

* * *

**Chapter 4 – It's Onl****y ****Y****our Life**

and I'm banging on your door

so come on and let me in!

need a place to hide

I need a place to hide before the storm begins

_(White Lies - A Place To Hide)_

**Edward Cullen**

"Do you want some mashed potatoes?" my mother asked, holding the pot over the table to present me with a mouthwatering look on its contents. With a simple nod I confirmed her question and stopped eating until she finished putting the potatoes next to the salad on my plate.

She smiled at my appetite, her face illuminated by the small light over the kitchen table.

"You will stay here tonight, won't you?"

I nodded again. It was the third time she had asked me that question during the last hour. I hated the fact that I was causing her so much trouble and worry. And with a murder casting its shadows over our company everything got so much worse.

With concerned eyes she kept on surveying me across the table, while she patted my free hand with her own.

Esme's desire to nurture the family had always been the most prominent of all, but all of her anxieties only increased with the death of Carlisle, her overprotective side winning over completely.

But I wouldn't complain. The certainty with which she believed in me was more than I could have asked for. She hadn't questioned me once and I wouldn't even blame her if she had. I was eternally grateful for her trust in me.

When I finished my plate, I laid the fork neatly onto the china, interrupting the thick silence with the quiet clink.

"I'm tired, Mom. I guess, I better go upstairs."

I pulled my left hand from hers and rubbed my eyes just to underline my desire to go to sleep.

"Of course! You must be exhausted," she replied, an understanding look on her face. "I already put fresh linens on your bed."

She smiled at me, her eyes so full of warmth I couldn't help but hug her as we both stood up .

"Thank you, for everything you did today. It means a lot to me," I whispered.

"It was nothing, Edward. I hope everything will figure itself out soon enough," she whispered back, hugging her arms tightly around me as if afraid she might lose me any second.

She reluctantly let go and I excused myself with a reassuring smile.

Upstairs, I found my room exactly as I left it a couple of years ago. Only the sheets were new; she had obviously changed them recently. I had moved back in for a couple of weeks after Carlisle passed away to make it more bearable for her so I had the necessities, but most of my personal things were in my apartment downtown. Only a couple of CDs were left and quite a large number of books, that were stored alphabetically in the cupboards.

Out of habit I walked straight to the stereo, switched it on and pressed the play button. An impulsive piece of Haydn, which seemed to fit my mood perfectly, fluttered through the room.

Fully clothed I let myself fall onto my bed, crossed my arms behind my back and stared unfocused at the ceiling. Staying with Esme had been a good idea so far. I didn't know what I would do without her support, but the problems I had, wouldn't figure themselves out. Now that I was alone the thoughts overwhelmed me again.

I had to try a rational approach.

Of course just because the police had let me go today, didn't mean that I was off the hook. Detective Black had made perfectly clear that I was still their prime suspect and unfortunately I couldn't really blame them for believing so. Nonetheless I was left with the definite knowledge that I didn't do it, which left one main question towering over every other one:

Who did it? Who killed Claire?

Even in my darker hours Claire had always been supportive, nice and overly friendly. Not only towards me, but towards everyone, as far as I knew. And I could only imagine what a challenge that must have been from time to time. Being my secretary probably wasn't the most appreciated work.

We weren't close by any means, but she did a good job, even when I didn't. And thinking about her in past tense was a weird thing to do; the constant images of her bleeding body still caused a nauseous feeling in the depth of my gut.

I came to one conclusion: To solve the riddle about _whom_, the question of _why_ had to be answered first. It seemed like no rape or such thing was involved in this mess, so this was ruled out as a reason. I didn't imagine her to be especially rich either. If she came from a rich family, she probably wouldn't have worked as a secretary. Although it was a possibility that she inherited a small fortune or won the lottery recently. Money couldn't be ruled out as a reason entirely, even though it seemed unlikely for her heir to sneak into my office of all places and murder her in such a brutal manner.

The reason was to be found elsewhere. Everything came down to my office being the site of crime. I had to start there, looking for reasons or people that made this murder a reality. I just _had_ to prove my innocence somehow. I mentally skipped through all of my employees. Jessica came to my mind first of course. After all, she was the one I found at the crime scene. But with her, it was fairly easy. She was a little dense sometimes, but I knew her since high school and my insight into human nature couldn't fool me that much. She had been broken that morning, representing a shadow of herself. Nobody could act that well. And don't they say women kill with poison? Okay that was probably stupid reasoning, because whoever did this was mentally ill; no matter if woman or man.

Anyway, Jessica wasn't capable of such brutality. Period.

Beside Jessica, there were the accountant guys. While Claire did lots of my paperwork and served our guests and partially me, there wasn't enough work for a full-time position in my office. So whenever she had free time, she headed over to the accountant department to help out. Apparently they had always enough to do over there to keep her busy.

Obviously these were the guys she had been closest to.

I closed my eyes to picture everyone who worked there. The first face that appeared in front of my inner eye was James Barth, head of the accountant compartment and my least favourite pain in the ass during the last couple of days.

He was acting so odd lately, it was a wonder I hadn't thought about him earlier. I felt my fist clench around the sheets in anger, the murder itself for a minute forgotten. If this idiot managed to go out with Bella Swan the other night, I needed to find out and tell him his place. But she wouldn't. She couldn't. I forcefully unclenched my right fist just to pull my hair quite hard and get my thoughts back to the topic at hand.

James.

Just as Claire, he never acted out of the ordinary. That creepy smile firstly annoyed me one day ago, when he pursued Bella. And after he pulled that stunt, he went on and told the police I had a _thing_ for Claire - whatever that was supposed to mean.

The questions only doubled from there on. Did Claire say something to him? Did I make the impression? Why did James care? There was something terribly wrong with him and the longer I thought about it, the more aware I became of that. But of course accusing him due to my subjective observations would be as wrong as the police suspecting me.

I stopped tugging at my hair and slammed my palm flat against the mattress.

I was getting nowhere with those musings. I needed to _do_ something. The police would just try to prove me guilty and the accomplishment of that seemed more likely than anything else. I couldn't expect any help from them, so I finally came to the conclusion that I needed to get back to the place of crime itself. Maybe I would be able to find something that would lead me to the killer. With a plan forming slowly in my head I got up again, switched the stereo off with the remote and left my room towards the hallway.

Without waking Esme, I more or less snuck out of the house and drove back to _Gateshead_. I had no idea what exactly I was looking for, but the culprit must've left traces, clues, anything. I was basically going to search for anything unusual or out of the ordinary.

I drove down into the dimly lit garage after opening the doors with the remote and parked in my usual spot near the elevator. The green-lighted button for "up" was tempting me, but I settled for the stairs, not in the mood for the loud bumbling noises of the cabin. I took two stairs at a time as quietly as possible, although it didn't really matter how much noise I was making. I had decided against a security system a couple of years ago and only a guard patrolled the building two times a night these days. I briefly wondered if they had questioned him about this mess.

The whole building was dead silent and I felt like breaking and entering into my own company as I snuck through the corridors that late at night.

Up at the third floor, where not only my, but also Claire's office was located, I exited the stairway and headed towards the crime scene itself. Even from afar I saw the neon tape, blocking my office from intruders. The door was closed and sealed, making any investigation on my part impossible. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. There wasn't anything of interest in there anyway. The body should have been removed by now, but the blood was probably still there, being a reminder of this morning I didn't need.

As a consequence I walked past my door and towards Claire's right next to it. Surprisingly this one wasn't sealed. Apparently the police didn't find it necessary to search her office for evidence. That, or they had already finished looking through her things this afternoon.

I silently opened the door, slid inside and closed it behind me. It wasn't like I did something against the law, but it still felt strange to walk around the dark and deserted building being the murder suspect that I was.

I strolled over to her desk and looked at the stuff she had worked on the day before. Since Claire hadn't done lots of work for me during the last couple of days, she had done some paperwork for the accountants as it seemed. Lots of bills and calculations were clattered around her desk in what seemed like an uncoordinated mess. I picked up a couple of pages and looked them over superficially. Nothing seemed strange to me. Travel expense records, bills for our office supplies and a couple of calculations I didn't understand. Everything seemed fine. I laid the papers back onto the desk and turned on her computer to look through her e-mails. Maybe I could find any answers in them. While it booted up I clicked through the last calls on her phone. The only outgoing calls I found, were the ones I made her do a few days go. I guess the accountants weren't that much into communication. No out of the ordinary incoming calls on that list either.

Her computer was finally ready to use and I started the mail-program. Maybe it wasn't right to look through someone else's e-mails, but these weren't supposed to be private and oh well, it's not like she would ever find out.

The e-mails were a big disappointment anyway. I didn't know what exactly I was looking for, but there definitely wasn't anyone openly threatening her. Without any real hope it would help the matter I opened her browser and checked her last visited websites as well as her favourites, but as expected: nothing interesting was to be found there. She had been on the website of our main bank and on some websites of investors and affiliates, but nothing was wrong with that. I couldn't find anything odd in her things. She didn't even visit non-work-related websites. Maybe that was a little odd after all.

I shut the computer down and leaned back in the comfortable leather chair. What now? My brilliant idea didn't turn out to be so brilliant after all. No progress whatsoever. I tried to reason. There needed to be something behind the surface, something big enough to justify murder. Perhaps I had to look for secrets. Of course the evidence wouldn't be found this easily. I pinched the bridge of my nose while I thought about places to hide confidential material.

Now that notion felt like a déjà vu. The desk drawer was the first thing that came to my mind. I reached out and opened it and instead of some stupid red umbrella, there was just more paperwork in a disarranged state. I shook my head at the untidy state of everything. How was it even possible to work in this environment? I grabbed everything with both of my hands and spread it out onto the floor, because the desk was already a mess as it was. Lots of little yellow post-it notes and other mostly handwritten things fluttered around. One note written in blue ink got my attention, because all of the other ones were written with a black ball-pen, which had to belong to Claire, while the blue one probably didn't.

Of the massive amount of notes this was the only one that seemed at least slightly promising. While the others only held phone numbers, reminders of deadlines or times for appointments and the like, this one was dated with yesterday's day and had an account number, a pretty big amount of money and a few cryptic notes on it. "Call back Mr. Henderson of Nat. West" it said; "to Fagur Alit, Iceland" was written right under the line of numbers; lots of question marks artistically drawn around it. Definitely Claire's handwriting. I suppose I could call this Mr. Henderson as requested on the note, but a swift glance at my watch told me that this was not the right time to call some bank clerk. It was already nearing midnight, my options of taking any action were almost zero.

But maybe I could find out, to whom the account number belonged. I let the note disappear in my pocket and tried to tidy up the mess I had made on the floor while shoving everything back into the desk drawer, turned the computer off and exited the room to head over to the accountants. There had to be records of transfers our company did and maybe I could locate that number somewhere.

The most recent bills and financial statements were stored in the offices, while older ones were kept downstairs in the archives. I hoped this was a recent issue, so I tried James' office first. When I entered his bureau and spotted the large walls packed with folders, I had to force myself not to turn around and give up right then and there. There was no way I would be able to find anything in there. I strolled past the shelves to read the inscriptions on the back of the folders and only got more discouraged. At the end of the row were a few folders labelled with "Monthly statement of account" and I decided I would try a single one and if this didn't offer any new information, I would just go home and take a good nights rest. The police would find out that I was innocent eventually, wouldn't they?

I picked the most recent one and walked over to James' desk to place the heavy thing on top of it. Page by page I strolled through the thick folder. Everything was listed there. Outgoing transfers for suppliers, employees and insurances. The list was endless and the impossibility to find a single number in those spreadsheets was screaming right in my face. And there was even the possibility it wasn't there at all.

I was about to close the folder defeated when my eyes fell on the unusual name:

"Fagur Alit".

And right next to it was a number very similar to the one on the note. I skipped through the pages one more time and found more entries with the same name. With every entry lots of money had been transferred to a foreign account at the Central Bank of Iceland.

This was strange indeed.

As far as I knew we didn't have any partners, suppliers or customers in Iceland. Wind energy isn't exactly in their centre of attention with all the geothermal energy they've got up there.

I wrote the correct number on a different post-it, put both notes back into my pocket and closed the folder to shove it back into its place on the shelf. After all, there was no need to let anyone know I had been there and did some research. A sudden worry about fingerprints crossed my mind and I grabbed the folder back out of the shelf, wiping it with the end of my sleeves, just to salve my conscience. It was a stupid thing to do, since it was my company and I should be allowed to leave fingerprints everywhere, but instincts I didn't know I had were kicking in.

I switched the light off and headed back to Claire's office, since mine was still sealed. Again, I turned her computer on and tapped my fingers on the desk until it was finally up and running.

As the browser popped up, I opened google and typed "Fagur Alit" into the search box, before pressing enter.

There went nothing.

A few music sites and other stuff in a language I identified as Icelandic came up and that was about it. At least I found a dictionary that translated the two words into "beautiful view". That didn't make any sense either. Both of my hands went into my hair out of frustration. I had a feeling in my gut that something was very wrong with this, but I had no idea what and how to proceed. Was this name supposed to be a person or a company? And what was all the money for that had been transferred to said account?

My only form of research was to type something into google and as I just figured, that got me nowhere. If I was better at this and had more options and more time on my hands, maybe I would be able to find something out about this. But of course I wasn't.

But I knew one person who was.

Isabella Swan.

I remembered her very detailed and well-researched articles clearly. She didn't let herself fool into anything and I bet she would know exactly what to do. I stared at the screen blankly while the letters began to dance in front of my eyes. I hated where my thoughts were heading. This was wrong on so many levels. I imagined her at a mahogany desk in her home office, writing an article about me and how I was the murderer of Claire, about how my company was a total failure and about what an unlimited idiot I was. And the worst of it was that the word idiot didn't even cover the extent of my stupidity.

I shut down Claire's computer after I cleared the browsers history of all evidence and felt uncharacteristically smart doing so. Then I switched off all the lights and silently snuck back down the stairs and into the garage, where my car waited faithfully in the darkness.

I sank down behind the wheel and stared out of the windscreen into the barely lit garage, putting the key into the ignition, without turning it yet. Probably, the wise thing would be to head back to my mother's house, before she realised I had gone out and panicked. But the little paper-note weighed heavily in my back pocket and the decision had been made before I even knew it.

For the most different reasons I would pay Bella Swan a visit.

First and foremost I wanted her to help me with my research. Of course I had no idea if she was willing to do so, which led me to the second reason: I needed to ask her why she told the police about my little argument with Claire. Somehow it was essentially important to me that she knew I was innocent. The look she gave me as I was escorted by the police in the morning was something I wouldn't forget too soon.

The decision was made. I turned the key in the ignition and drove out of the garage before I realised that I had no idea where Bella lived. This was a problem I hadn't considered, but a plan was already forming in my head.

I drove two blocks down and double-parked on the street, jumped out of the car and ran to one of the few remaining phone booths in town I knew of. I could only hope she was listed in the telephone directory. I slipped into the box and grabbed the worn down book. My eyes scanned through the names. There were four Swans, but only one with an added 'I.' as the shortcut of a given name. That had to be her!

I followed the line of her address with my finger and read it aloud. The name of the street sounded familiar. It was somewhere a little north of town. To not risk and forget the house number, I ripped the page out of the book, folded it and stuffed it beside the notes into my pocket.

The street was easily found, the low traffic at this time of the day making my search even easier. As soon as I saw the right street sign in a middle-class neighbourhood, I found a decent parking spot behind some old car, which caught my attention because of the varnish that already crumbled off the trunk, leaving funny patterns of rust.

The house Bella lived in seemed old, but it was freshly painted and overall in a good shape. The front door was irresponsibly left wide open so I ignored the bell and went right into the hall, closing the door behind me for security reasons. I fumbled for a light switch and eventually found one that illuminated the staircase in too flashy light, making me blink a few times until my eyes adjusted to the strong contrast.

I went up the stairs and stopped at every door to look at the plates beside each bell, which indicated the apartments occupant. The second one on the third floor was finally hers. Isabella Swan was engraved in plain letters into the plate. It was really her.

I eyed the door curiously. No light was shining through the peep-hole or under her door and no sounds came from inside.

Suddenly I had second thoughts about this whole venture. Bella was probably sound asleep, enjoying a good nights rest. So much for journalists being up all night and writing genius articles to win the Pulitzer price their whole life. But I couldn't back out now. I had come so far already and I had to talk to her now. I inhaled deeply, raised my fist to knock on her door, while my other hand found its way into the pocket of my jacket. I knocked softly at first but when nothing happened I tried a little louder. I listened closely, but no sounds were coming from inside. Still, nothing happened. Maybe she wasn't even home. Maybe she went out with James again and stayed with him over night. Those maybes were going to kill me one of these days. I needed her to be home. Alone.

With a new desperation I fisted my hand once again and knocked it to her door one more time. Someone cursed. Hushed whispers were audible through the wooden door now. She was home. A little weight left my body. I leaned closer to her voice and whisper-yelled her name through the closed door.

"Bella? It's Edward. Edward Cullen. Could you please open your door? I need to talk to you."

Silence hit me again.

It seemed like hours passed and I was about to knock again when I heard the key turning in the lock of her door. It slowly opened a little. Just enough for me to see her beautiful face. A little crease formed on her forehead as she looked up at me with her big brown innocent eyes.

"What do you want?" she asked in a silent sleepy voice.

"I need to talk to you. I... I might need your help," I answered, stuttering the words and pleading with my eyes that she would let me in.

She looked at me for a moment and obviously came to a conclusion right then. The door opened wide enough and she stepped aside in an inviting gesture to let me walk into her apartment.

"Thank you," I whispered, grateful for the trust she showed towards me, although she couldn't know if I was even worth of it. And I probably wasn't.

As soon as I was in her hall and she had closed the door behind me, I searched for her eyes again. They were bright and clear and in contrary to her messy hair they didn't look like I woke her from a deep sleep.

My eyes wandered over her whole form, because I just couldn't stop myself. She was wearing comfortable looking dark blue pyjamas that were probably a number too big for her. She seemed so frail and delicate, mesmerizing and mostly beautiful in it, that I couldn't help but just stare at her for an undefined amount of time. The moment felt much more intimate than it should and it was probably for the best that she suddenly turned bright red and headed back into her bedroom alone.

**Bella Swan**

I spent the whole afternoon going through my notes, thinking and considering various possibilities.

Why was Claire McNamara murdered? And by whom?

There were so many questions and I was desperate for some answers. In the end, I came up with nothing. All I had was a waste-basket full of crumpled paper, diverse chewed pencils and a stomach full of pickles.

I figured I should go back to Gateshead once more, talk to the staff, do some more research. Maybe I could even visit the police station and charm some more information out of Jacob and camouflage my visit with the confirmation of my statement I had to make anyway.

Eric was calling his goodbyes from the door, leaving me alone in the quiet office, interrupting my thoughts. I sighed, I was looking forward to the cosiness of my home and decided to call it a day too. I collected my notes, shoved them in my bag and hesitated shortly before also taking the prints Ryan had passed me earlier.

Of course those pictures were in our database, but Ryan was so happy with two of his shots that he had printed them and showed them off to the boss. Ben was nearly jumping up and down in excitement about this being such a _big_ story. Honestly, I tried not to listen to both of them that much since their enthusiasm about the arresting of Mr. Cullen discomfited me even more so.

After gushing all about it while standing at my desk, they left the prints with me nonetheless. Finally by myself I took a closer look and instantly wished I hadn't. The first shot was a close up on Mr. Cullen's face. He was looking down, eyes to the ground. The expression read _remorseful_. I had been there and he hadn't looked that way, but still it seemed almost like guilt in the picture. _See, why I sometimes despise journalism?_

I shuddered slightly. This wasn't right. I couldn't write this article. Not the one Ben wanted me to write anyway. I didn't want gossip or suspicions, I wanted the truth and nothing else.

The other photo showed Edward Cullen, as he was shoved into the police cruiser, the hand of the officer on his shoulder, pushing him to get in there. It's one thing to read that someone has been to a questioning at the police station or maybe even arrested, but it's another thing to see a picture showing that moment. People tend to memorize images a lot better than words. And nobody should memorize this.

An hour later, I was home, lying in my bed at last. Not that I did any sleeping. Although I was so desperate to forget about the whole mess, I kept tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, my head still filled with thoughts about the day I had.

My fantasy was so vivid sometimes, I even imagined someone knocking on my door. But then it knocked again and I wasn't so sure anymore, if I was only making things up in my mind. A quick glance to the clock told me it was half past one in the morning. Who could be knocking at my door at that time? Did something happen - again?

I got up silently and stumbled through my dark apartment, stood in front of the door and listened carefully. This was one of the rare moments I wished I'd still live with my dad; Charlie would know how to handle a situation like this. As there were no suspicious sounds, I took a deep breath and braced myself before looking through the peep-hole.

My heart skipped a beat.

Mr. Edward Cullen was my nightly visitor. Or should I say, Mr. Cullen as in Edward Cullen, the murder suspect? It is odd how somebody gets instantly very suspicious by standing outside your apartment in the middle of the night. Goosebumps creeped their way onto my skin. He wasn't a murderer, right? He would already be arrested if he was, wouldn't he?

I backed away from the door panicked, confused and while I was quickly going backwards I stumbled over something and hit my foot while crashing it into a wall. The pain came as expected; _damn that bloody pair of shoes lying around here!_ My hand shot up to my mouth. I had just cursed aloud. Had he heard that? I froze, holding my breath, waiting.

"Bella? It's Edward. Edward Cullen. Could you please open your door? I need to talk to you."

Okay, so obviously now he knew I was here. _Stupid Shoes. _What should I do? _Think, Bella, think!_

His distressed voice sounded authentic. Like he actually _was_ distressed.

I hated how that affected me. It woke the absurd desire in me to ease his despair. What were my choices anyway?

_I could keep pretending I was not home. - No. I wasn't fake like that. _

_I could call the police. - No. Just -- no. _

_I could ask him to leave. - That seemed like a good choice. But then I'd never find out what exactly he was here for. _

I bit my lip, already knowing that I was going to do something stupid. _Forgive me Charlie, but I'm too curious for my own good. _

I picked choice number four: _Listen to what he has to say and then ask him to leave. _

Decision made, I unlocked the door and opened it just as far as I had to to get a good look at the beaten and desperate figure that was standing in the faint light of the hallway.

I got straight to the point: "What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you. I... I might need your help."

He _actually_ stammered. That was the moment I entirely gave up all precautions. He needed help and was desperate enough to ask me of all people. Yeah well, and I was stupid enough to step aside and let him in.

He murmured a "Thank you" and seemed somewhat relieved that I let him talk to me. Didn't anybody else? Was there nobody in his life he could trust? My mind was racing and as I got my attention back to the here and now Edward was staring at me. Oh boy, I was in my pyjamas. I felt my face getting red with embarrassment.

"I'll be right back," I mumbled and rushed off to my bedroom to find something else to wear. Hastily I put a sweater on and decided to keep the pyjama trousers. It seemed ridiculous to change into jeans in your own apartment at this time of day. I tried to recollect myself a bit and put my hair into a ponytail. This was the best I could do without using the bathroom. When I peeked back into the hallway he was gone. Where had he gone? Wasn't it some kind of rule to not leave a murder suspect alone in your hallway? _Stupid Bella! Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

But when I entered my living room, I found him intensely staring at my CD rack. I stood in the door frame and watched him, while he obviously judged my musical taste. I couldn't imagine him finding anything that he liked in there, well except for Oasis of course. His expression didn't reveal any approval or dislike, maybe he was just keeping himself busy, not really noticing any of my music at all. As he noticed me watching him, he turned towards me and smiled his beautiful crooked smile. His eyes were still sad and tired, but his smile offered a warmness to melt the poles.

The intimacy of the moment and the blood rushing to my cheeks were too much to bear for me. Other issues of more importance had to be dealt with right now, so I tried to ignore his beauty as well as I could and stabled myself against the door frame.

"So, did you do it?" I asked him. I needed him to deny it out loud before I could talk to him about anything else.

A dozen emotions flickered through his face, until he finally shrugged and sank down on the sofa.

"Of course not," he stated simply.

Conclusively relief washed over me. "I thought so."

His head shot up and his eyes searched mine once again.

"You did?"

What should I reply? That I thought he was an arrogant bastard, but not capable of something like murder? I couldn't do that to him right now. He already seemed devastated enough. So I just nodded instead. Time to change the subject again.

"Coffee?" I asked, about to make some anyway.

"Why?" he asked, clearly not referring to my offer.

"Does the whole concept of caffeine sound familiar to you?" I avoided answering his question.

"Bella."

He just said my name and craved with his eyes. I knew I had lost then and sighed.

"You simply aren't capable of something like that. For heaven's sake, she was stabbed! Now, do you want some coffee or not?"

He still didn't respond to me, so I decided I'd get him some anyway.

Coming back to the living room with the cups in my hand I didn't know where to put them, and where to seat myself. This was ridiculous, I felt awkward in my own home. Edward, or Mr. Cullen or whatever I was supposed to call him, was stretched out on the sofa, eyes closed. I went for the old arm chair with sunken cushions I barely sat in, put his mug down on the table and made myself comfortable with mine. I decided I could give him a minute of rest, since he had looked so completely exhausted earlier. And I had to admit to myself that I enjoyed watching him immensely. His left arm was lying relaxed beside him, while the right hand covered his stomach. The hair was a sweet mess and a strand fell over his eyes. When the caffeine cleared out my last bit of sleepiness, and thankfully suppressed the impulse to stroke the hair out of his face, I finally spoke to him again.

"So, what do you need my help for?"

I saw his chest rise and fall with the deep breath he took.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up and I don't want to scare you and I don't want to steal your time, but I don't know anybody else, who might be of any help with this," he apologised and turned his head a little while opening his eyes. He looked at me for a second just to make sure I was okay with him being there on my sofa. When I didn't say anything he closed his eyes again and relaxed his head on the cushions. Finally he continued: "I need to find the one who did it."

"Don't you think, that's what the police is for?"

"Well, here's the thing with the police. They are pretty convinced I did it!" He sat up again and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, before he ran one hand through his messy hair. "I think there's something else behind all of this. Something bigger."

He got my interest there. I was always one for a good conspiracy theory. He eyed his coffee with a bit of disgust, but finally took a sip anyway. Silently I waited for him to continue.

"I found something I think Claire was working on before --," he trailed off in a husky voice. I nodded. Even for me it was hard to talk about her death, I couldn't even imagine how it had affected him. "Then I looked a little further into it and now I think there is something unusual going on in accounting."

I didn't understand. Was this about Claire and her death? What had this to do with accounting of all things? If it was his goal to get me interested – congratulations, mission: accomplished. But this obviously wasn't about playing games. Not even for him. The journalist's natural instinct of curiosity kicked in: I needed more information on this. "What do you mean? Unusual?"

"I don't know," he said, his hands firmly gripping the still almost full mug. "I went back to the office tonight. You know, looking for something to prove my innocence at the crime scene. This may sound weird, but that's what they do in those TV shows and I didn't know any better."

He sounded like a young boy saying that and I had to smile a little. He probably learned how to cook from TV shows as well. But my short internal rant came to a close when I thought about the meaning of his words and the police daughter in me resurfaced while my smile faded into a frown.

"You went back to the office? Why did you do that?" I said a little too loud. "You didn't break any seals right? You can get arrested for just that. You really should leave all of this to the police!"

"No, please chill. I didn't break anything. I went in, looked around and went out again. No big deal. Can I please just continue my story? I might really need your help here."

I just nodded, not really satisfied with what he gave me so far.

"Alright then. I went to the third floor and my office was sealed, so I went past it." He pointedly glared at me. "But Claire's wasn't, so I went inside and looked around. Checked her e-mails and her desk, when I finally found this little note."

I was about to interrupt him again, because I thought he was being nosey with reading her e-mails and stuff, but I managed to hold back. Meanwhile he placed his mug back onto the table, reached for the back-pocket of his jeans and pulled out a little yellow paper. He held it in his hand and looked briefly at it, before he stretched his arm over the table in my direction to hand it over to me. I mirrored his actions and after putting my mug on the table, reached for the note in his hand.

Our fingers only touched for the smallest moment but just like that my heart skipped a beat. The atmosphere shimmered with energy. Heat rushed through me and I quickly took my hand away and stared at the note. In fact, I wanted to stare at Edward, but I assured myself that the note was the way better choice.

He eyed me warily while I began reading, though there really wasn't much to read. A few numbers and the plea to call someone back. That was basically it and I still didn't understand. He sensed my confused state and continued his story.

"I didn't know what to make out of this note and because there was nothing else to do, I tried to find out which account this number belongs to."

He gestured towards the yellow paper and told me about his findings in James Barth's office, about a weird Icelandic name and constant transfers to the mentioned account. "Something must have gone wrong with the last transfer so the bank called and Claire wrote this information down," he finished and suddenly this reminded me of my first encounter with Claire.

"I was there," I whispered remembering.

Mr. Cullen raised his head to look at me properly. "You've been where?"

"When Claire received the call. I was there," I repeated and paused for a few seconds. Not so much for dramatic effect, but because it was so strange to remember Claire alive when she was now brutally killed, leaving behind a fiancé and a happy life.

"I got lost in your building when I was there to get my umbrella. I happened to end up in Mr. Barth's office, where she was talking on the phone. She seemed confused about something, checked the computer and finally wrote a note. Before she hung up, she said Mr. Barth would call back as soon as possible. I can't be sure, but I'm almost certain it's the same note we're talking about here. But I still don't understand. Why is this of so much importance? Isn't this normal? Secretaries answering phones, transfers being made, although the recipients name sounds a little odd? And you still haven't answered my question, what do you need my help for?" I was rambling and I knew it, but I was so confused by the blank face Mr. Cullen had by now. It seemed like he wasn't even listening to me anymore. Without acknowledging my questions he asked one himself:

"James' office, you said?"

I silently waited for him to tell me the thoughts he was obviously forming in his head. He simply stood up then and for a second I was afraid he would leave without telling me anything else, but he only walked towards the door and back, looking on the floor the whole time. Back and forth, back and forth. Again and again. And I just watched him. He creased his forehead as if deeply in thought, ran a hand or even both through his hair from time to time and paced in long strides through my tiny living room. After about ten minutes I decided I gave him enough time. I needed to know what was going on behind those pretty eyes.

"You know, you should really tell me something before I throw you out."

He came to a dead stop. "Sorry. It's just utterly confusing. I had to think."

I tapped my foot impatiently and he finally sat down again.

"I need your help to research something. I tried myself but I figured you'd be much better at it."

_Research? He was here for research? _

"Alright? I can try. What are you looking for?"

"The Icelandic transactions. Do you think you could locate this company or whatever it is? Fagur Alit?"

I picked one of the many notepads I had lying around and handed it to Mr. Cullen. "Could you write down the name and any other information you have about them, please. I'll be right back."

I headed to the bedroom for my computer. It was decent enough for my demands but still it took forever to boot it. So I pressed the button, made a little space on the desk and as I was about to get back to the living room he was walking in.

"Edw--," I mentally slapped myself, "uhm, Mr. Cullen!"

He didn't seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

"Here, I've got the information you asked for, _Bella_," he said casually, emphasising my first name. I guess it's _Edward_ then from now on.

It was kind of intimidating for me to have this insanely gorgeous man in my bedroom. "S-s-s-ure, thanks," I stuttered out, taking the information from him, careful not to touch his hand again. I glanced at his handwriting and admired the perfectly steady letters for a moment, before his eyes fell on my computer.

"Wait a minute? So all my hopes depend on that crappy --," he made a little pause, obviously searching for the right term, "-- thing?" He walked past me, not disturbed in any way that he was invading my privacy. As he had examined my computer a little, he turned back at me.

"This is actually worse than your non-existent tape recorder. What is this? It looks more like a time-machine than a computer."

"I'm afraid the time-machine broke last month. Otherwise we could go back and prevent anything from happening."

His face fell and I hated myself a little for saying that. It wasn't his fault.

"Sorry," I muttered apologetically and sat in front of the computer. Edward stood behind me, observing my every step.

"I'll try a few databases," I informed him and then concentrated on the screen. I got a little lost in my research and after a while I absently noted that Edward had pulled the stool, which I kept next to my closet to reach the top shelf, next to me. I was glad he didn't disturb me, because I really had to focus. I couldn't come up with anything about the firm on the usual databases, so I decided to look into a few other ones I barely used.

I tried everything I could think of and still came to the same conclusion. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Like it doesn't even exist," I mumbled to myself, thinking. That must have gotten Edwards attention.

"What do you mean with that? It doesn't exist?"

"I can't find anything on this. Maybe the spelling is wrong or I don't know. Perhaps this is a person, not a company. Nearly every company is in the news at least once in its existence. Do you have any employees with an Icelandic bank account? I'm running out of options. I could do another at work tomorrow. They've got more opportunities there. Archives that are not in those electronic databases yet. But they are old and only consist of our paper of course and it's not likely that there's anything about some Icelandic business in there. Maybe I could call a newspaper in Reykjavik and ask them to look for this term, --"

"Wait a minute there," Edward interrupted, "so you're saying that you can't find anything either, right?"

"Yes, that's basically it."

"Alright then. Well, thank you very much. I need to apologise again for disturbing your night, but I better go now." He stood up and I quickly blocked the door back to my hallway.

"You can't be serious, can you? I burn the midnight oil here and you just decide to leave without giving me more information?" I didn't like that he had used me to get some information; he couldn't just let me in on his story, gain my curiosity and then shut me out again. And I could see it in his eyes - he had a plan. And I wanted to be in on that plan.

"Really Bella, it's late already and I have kept you up long enough. Just go to sleep again. I'm really sorry for having disturbed you for ages already."

"Don't be sorry and just tell me what you know. You have a plan and I want to know it!"

He sighed and his arms hung limply at his sides. I had convinced him.

He would tell me everything.

* * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

Would you invite Edward Cullen into your apartment in the middle of the night?


	6. Wake Up Call

**Disclaimer:** I don't even own Earl Grey tea and we certainly don't own Edward or any other of those beautiful characters. But I own the picture I took of Rob Pattinson last weekend from 200m afar. Well yeah, better than nothing, right?

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Wake Up Call**

_disappointed, disillusioned, re-affirm my view,_

_we've all a story to sell,_

_we've all a lie that we tell,_

_and it goes on and on, and on and on._

_(Budapest – Is This The Best It Gets)_

_

* * *

  
_

**Bella Swan**

"The plan is, that I call the bank first thing tomorrow morning. I'm going to ask them about the transfers and about the money and the receiver of everything and then I'm going to call whoever is behind this business and collect more information," Edward said, as if this was the best idea he ever had.

If this truly was his plan, I was mistaken. It wasn't a plan at all.

"That is the stupidest idea I've ever heard," I answered him and stepped out of his way. "Come on, take a seat again. Do you want anything else to drink?"

"Well, no, I have to go," he said hesitantly. "Why do you think my plan is stupid?" he enquired further, not moving to follow my invitation.

"Just because. Have you ever tried to get information out of some bank clerk? They won't tell you anything," I said, walking into my living room with hopes he might follow. He did.

"Why wouldn't they? It's my company. My money being transferred."

"Well yeah and you probably can stop the transfers right away, but they won't give you any information about this 'Fagur Alit' thing."

He fell down on my couch and grabbed his mug once more to take another sip. It was followed by some quiet cursing and I'm pretty sure I heard him say something like "it's even worse when it's cold". The mug was placed securely on the table as he leaned his head against the back rest of my sofa just to close his eyes again.

"So what is _your_ awesome plan? Sit here and wait to get arrested? I can't do that."

"Of course not. They won't arrest you, when you didn't do anything. The police know how to deal with those things. Just have a little faith here, please."

"There was a murder today. Sorry if I don't have any faith left right now," he said touchily. "You don't understand. They think I did it. The detective, how he looked at me? That was determination. He _wants_ me to be the killer."

"That's bullshit! Nobody wants you to be the killer. Stop being so overdramatic. You're imagining things here. Maybe you should just lie down and rest for a few hours."

Was I offering him my couch for the night right now? Oh god, I hadn't planned this.

He stared at me.

"Rest? Like I can fucking rest when my life is crashing down in front of me."

His words startled me. Although I knew he had a problem with his temper, he wasn't one for cursing a lot; he had seemed too collected all the time.

"Edward," I tried to calm him. "How about I make us some nice breakfast and then we could go through the whole thing again. You could have a look at my notes about the case. I have the feeling that I'm missing something." I stood, not waiting for his reply. It was a rhetorical question after all. So I strolled into the kitchen and began making an early breakfast. The living room remained silent so I figured Edward was indeed resting a bit.

Suddenly a thought crossed my mind. _Of course!_ Why didn't I think of that earlier? While researching all the journalistic resources I completely missed the public ones. I literally sprinted back into my bedroom to the still running computer. Eagerly I waited for the browser to start, then opened google and searched for the Icelandic company registry. Certainly all of this didn't slip Edwards attention. He looked a little puzzled as he hastily joined me.

"What's the matter?"

"Basically we forgot the most obvious thing. In almost every country, companies have to be registered to some kind of authority. And the best part," I smiled at him, "is that they give information to anyone because it's you know, a public registry."

"Sounds too good to be true," he answered doubtfully. He stayed anyway, not sitting this time, but standing behind me, resting his hands on the back of the chair. I would have been intimidated if I wasn't so excited that we were finally getting the information we needed.

"So, here we go." I eyed the website of the public registry in Iceland and soon found what I was looking for. I typed in the data and hit 'Order document'. Edward leaned in even closer, as we both nervously waited for the result.

_'For the requested documents a manual processing is needed. The documents will be sent to fulfil your order within the next 7 days.'_

"Oh no!"

"Shit. I'm screwed," Edward spat out fiercely.

"It says 'within 7 days', maybe we will get it sooner," I tried not to sound too defeated.

He muttered, shaking his head, "Not with my luck," and scuffled out of the room. I followed him and found him walking in circles in my living room again. The air was buzzing with his tension. "Edward."

He didn't hear me at all.

So, I stepped in his way, and as I placed one of my hands on his shoulder he finally stopped, recognising me. Staring at me.

"Edward," I repeated myself, "listen to me. You really need to rest a bit. Being tired out won't help you at all. You need to keep a clear head."

His eyes left mine and followed my arm up to my hand on his shoulder and then he looked me in the eyes again. Oh no, I just crossed a line here. I shouldn't have touched him. Being allowed to call him by his given name was no invitation to touch him. Although my instincts screamed at me to give this sad, hopeless man a hug, I withdrew my hand immediately and took a step back.

He looked at me for a few seconds longer and murmured a quiet "thank you" before returning to his seat on my couch. Alright, definitely no more touching!

"I'm going to go back to the kitchen to make breakfast. Do you have any preferences?" I asked to distract myself and to lighten the bitter mood he was in.

He turned his head and looked over his shoulder in my direction. "If you've got some tea and if it doesn't cause inconvenience, I would really appreciate a cup. This coffee, well --," he trailed off.

I had to smile at that. "Is Earl Grey alright? I don't have anything else here right now."

"Of course, it's my favourite. With milk if possible?"

With that he turned around, rested his head comfortably on the back of the sofa and I went towards the kitchen. While the water started boiling, I made another coffee for me and put some cheese, jam and toast on the small table in my kitchen. I thought about making eggs, but it wasn't the right hour for eggs, so I kept it simple. When his tea was ready, I poured myself another cup of coffee and called his name. No answer. I called again, but no reaction whatsoever. If he snuck out without telling me, there would be hell to pay. But as I entered my living room to look for him, he was still there. Eyes closed and the most peaceful expression on his face. No more frowns. He had laid himself down again; his feet hanging over the end of the armrest, his hair sticking out in every direction, a few strands falling onto his forehead. How the hell did this beautiful man end up on my sofa?

I decided to let him rest and catch up on some well-deserved sleep for a few hours, although I was as far away from sleep as I could get right now. I approached him slowly and pulled carefully on the blanket, which was draped over the armrest and stuck under his legs and feet. Finally I managed to get it out without waking him, unfolded it and placed it on top of his body, tucking him in.

I got my coffee and some toast from the kitchen and settled down in my armchair to think this through one more time. Edward Cullen didn't murder Claire McNamara. I knew this right away, but now I was absolutely sure. Well, maybe not absolutely, but I couldn't deny, I trusted him for some irrational reason. Besides that, I disagreed with him on one thing: we shouldn't leave the police out of this. They had other possibilities, access to more information and more experience with this kind of stuff. Maybe I should call Charlie first thing in the morning and ask him for help; he would know what to do. We clearly were out of options, so Edward couldn't exactly argue at this point.

Edward.

His name still sounded a little strange and at the same time oddly familiar in my head. I didn't even know why I was so determined to help him, but he was different now from the man I met a few days ago. His eyes were hurt and sad and I wanted it gone. I realised that sad was even worse than bored and arrogant. I wanted his stupid cocky behaviour back; I didn't want to pity him. I wanted to help him and then tease him about his musical taste some more and I wanted to make him like my coffee and I wanted to touch him. Well, maybe not too much of the touching though - no more crossing the lines.

To occupy and distract myself, I played my favourite little mind game: transfer a real-life-person into a character worth writing a novel about.

Let's see, Edward. He definitely had to be a lord or something cheesy like that. British to the bone, old-fashioned, arrogant, rich and awfully handsome. Maybe a little glum too, but about nothing in particular, just because he existed. Probably the book would take place in the 17th century. Of course I'd change Edward's name into something totally different so he wouldn't recognize himself, like.....

... Edmund.

Okay, okay. Maybe I'll need some more time to think about the name. I'm not going to write that book anyway though. I think Pride and Prejudice already exists.

That's the thing about writing a novel. I always got to a point where somebody, somewhere already had written the story. That's why I almost stopped writing fiction completely lately. I had to admit though, Edmund would be a perfect start for a fascinating fictional character. With some time on my hands, I would totally write down a characterisation of him. I was bursting with ideas now and was about to get a notepad when the phone rang.

I glanced at the clock; it was barely seven. The last time I got a call this early in the morning, someone was murdered. I wasn't eager to answer the phone at all, but Edward was still asleep and if I didn't answer it soon he'd probably wake from the annoying noise.

"Hello?" I spoke quietly.

"Bella?"

"Who's speaking?" I asked, despite the fact that I already knew. It was Jacob, so basically the police. Something bad must have happened again. I knew this wasn't a casual call, not at this time of day.

"Sorry for calling you so early, Bells. This is Jacob speaking, Jacob Black."

_Bells. _I seriously had to ask Charlie if he had kept calling me Bells in the office. Maybe that's where Jacob got the nickname from.

"Hey Jacob. Don't worry, I was up anyway. What's wrong?"

"There is indeed something wrong," he said with a voice full of concern. "I know you're working on the Cullen case, right?"

"Well, yeah, at least I try to."

"The thing is, I'd rather see you not working on it anymore. This is dangerous and not safe. Especially for you."

"What do you mean by especially for me? I don't understand. It's my job. I'm writing about it."

"Well, I expected that you would need some kind of explanation from me. But I wish you wouldn't, because I don't want to scare you."

"Oh come on, spit it out now. What is the matter?"

"Bells, I'm sorry. We did an examination of Mr. Cullen's office computer. We found a picture of you on his hard drive,"

I gulped, "What?" _Good morning weirdness, how are you today? _

"What kind of picture?" He didn't stalk me and take pictures of me through windows or standing behind bushes, right?

"We found out it was downloaded from the website of the paper you're working at," Jacob answered and although this was weird enough, I was a little relieved.

"You have to be careful Bells. I don't know what his intentions are, but you're probably in danger. We're already looking for him, but so far we had no luck."

_Go figure. You're looking at all he wrong places. _

Just to be sure, I looked outside the window onto the street - no police cars.

Jacob was still talking to me: "-- please just keep your distance from Edward Cullen and be observant. If anything unusual happens, call me right away, understood?"

_You mean something like him at my apartment in the middle of the night? _

"Okay uhm-- sure. And what exactly happens to him if you're going to find him?" I tried to sound collected and insouciant, but was entirely nervous on the inside.

"We're going to arrest him. I'm pulling all the strings here, because I have a very bad feeling with this. Charlie would bury me alive if something happens to you. Mr. Cullen is under strong suspicion and we can't guarantee that he won't kill again. And given the danger of absconding we're going to keep him in custody if we'll locate him."

Custody? He was supposed to go into prison? I looked at him over my shoulder for a moment. Well I admit, him having a picture of me on his computer was beyond creepy, but there was just no way they could lock him away behind iron bars and concrete walls. There could be other reasons for a picture of me on his computer, like -- well I couldn't think of anything right now, but there must be something.

"Okay Jacob. Thanks for calling." I wanted to end this conversation. I needed to figure out why Edward had _my_ picture on his computer.

"Oh and Bells, I called your dad," Jacob said and then instantly hung up on me. _Bastard._ He knew I would be pissed about that. Though that problem wasn't the most urgent one right now.

Edward and his stalker tendencies were first on my list.

I turned to wake him, but he was already up, looking at me. He had the nerve to sit all comfy like he belonged on my couch, his hair slightly rumpled and his eyes soft and grateful. At least until he got a hint on my mood.

* * *

**Edward Cullen**

I woke to a soft and warm murmur somewhere close, which was undeniably the soothing voice of Bella Swan. She was talking to someone and since my eyes were still closed, I was fairly certain it wasn't me she was talking to. I wasn't dreaming either. The moment was warm and comfortable and her voice sounded nice, like a sweet melody in my head - I hadn't dreamt of warm and comfortable for a very long time. And although reality hadn't exactly been warm and comfortable either the last couple of months, I was almost sure this wasn't an illusion.

To check my theory, I opened my eyes a little to slowly adjust them to the dim light. Sure enough I was still on the couch in Bella Swan's living room, the red fluffy cushions a comfortable place for my head to rest a little while longer. No fuzzy 'where am I?' or 'what am I doing here?' was twisting up my mind, because I knew instantly where I was. Her scent was lingering all around me, especially when I pulled the blanket over my head to inhale the flowery smell.

I stopped my motions. A blanket? Maybe there was some fuzziness after all. I couldn't remember a blanket when I passed out on her sofa after exhaustion got the best of me earlier. Warmth was spreading through me and not because of the blanket itself, but because of the kind gesture Bella showed towards me. I had been in desperate need of some kind of comfort last night and there she was, providing it for me. A small grateful smile spread across my face. After all, she cared.

I heard her voice again and located it somewhere behind me.

Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I sat up and turned my head to see her standing with her back to me, looking out of the window and onto the streets. Daylight was already shining through and the morning sun was lightning up the room in a warm light. I must have slept for a couple of hours.

The words she said didn't really get through to me, since I was too mesmerised by her mere presence, my focus concentrated only on her.

Her hair was tamed in a messy ponytail, which she made right after she had led me into her apartment earlier. I had been beyond grateful when she finally opened her door to me. If my situation wasn't so sincere, I would probably have commented on how cute she was looking in her light blue pyjama, her cheeks turned into this beautiful shade of red. But I didn't and she left me standing in her hallway and disappeared through a door to an enclosed room. Stunned I stood in her hallway not sure about where to go and what to do, until I figured it would be safe to go into her living room.

Her apartment wasn't big, but it was nicely arranged and fit her perfectly in it's simplicity and warmness. I looked around a little, strolled past the shelves and cupboards and found a few pictures positioned near her small TV. A younger version of her was shown in one of them, embraced in a motherly affection by a woman in her late thirties. In another one she was standing next to a man, who I assumed to be her father. He was wearing a police uniform, standing tall and proud beside his daughter.

I was amazed by my stupidity. I, the murder suspect, was sincerely trying to prove my innocence to the police that was clearly against me, and asked a woman, who was the daughter of some police officer, to help me. And on top of that, she was a journalist, who could shred me into pieces with her next article if she took sides with the police.

But she didn't.

For some wonderful reason she believed in my innocence.

Although the police daughter in her surfaced pretty frequently.

After the music snob in me had examined her little CD collection and actually found a couple of pretty decent CDs, she came back. Changed into some sweater and her hair tamed in that cute ponytail I was currently staring at, while she still held the phone to her ear with those delicate hands. _Oh yeah, her hands. _

Our fingers had touched for a brief moment when I reached over her table to give the post-it from Claire to her. I didn't do it on purpose and our hands just barely grazed each other, but her fingers were all warm and soft and nice and it was like my whole body could feel her touch. Bella probably didn't feel any of this. She just read the note I had given her and then we kept talking about all the things I had found out at the office.

The next time she touched me had been even stranger.

I explained my need to find the killer and she took everything in with a certainty I envied. After she chastised me for going back to the office, she told me about the phone call she had witnessed in the _Gateshead_ building that fit perfectly to the note I found in Claire's desk. Just one more link to James Barth in this puzzle that still missed the most important parts.

Bella did some research with her "time-machine" that surprisingly wasn't placed on a mahogany desk in her home office, but on an old chipboard-desk in the corner of her small bedroom. It was a mystery how she could work in that environment and write those amazingly well researched articles, staring at the white ingrain wallpaper in front of her while waiting for the computer to do anything at all.

When she wasn't able to find the answers to my questions, I decided to finally leave her alone. It was about time, too. I had kept her from well-deserved sleep the whole night and my excuse for that disappeared as soon as Bella ran out of options to extend her research.

The only reason for staying was my selfish attraction towards her, that I couldn't act on. I needed to leave her out of this. The images of Claire were still fresh in my mind and to imagine someone else getting hurt and that someone might be Bella was just too much to bear. She shouldn't be part of this.

I started pacing through her room again, since it wasn't exactly an option to run around the block a couple of times. It helped my nerves when I was in motion, the movements clearing my head of unwanted thoughts. But suddenly Bella stood right in front of me, stopping me mid-stride.

She said something about 'being tired' and 'a clear head', but her words didn't make any sense. Her hand was placed on my shoulder and it was soft and firm at the same time. I felt the need to just grab it and place it in mine and hold it there. But I didn't. Instead I looked into her eyes again and tried to figure out if she felt something similar. If she wanted me to take her hand. If maybe she would accept when I would just kiss her. But there was nothing if not just the opposite: she quickly pulled her hand back.

But that was fine for now. She had already given me more than she probably knew. Her simple touch made me a little more confident for what might be coming in the future.

The prospect of some proper tea made me even happier, but unfortunately Bella's sofa felt too comfortable to stay awake on it long enough to have a cup.

It was only then that I realized what a selfish bastard I had been _again_. The now cold Earl Grey was standing untouched on the table. Bella made breakfast, Bella let me in, let me stay, offered her couch, offered her help. And I fell asleep. Simple as that. As a response to her cordiality I fell asleep. Can someone be any less grateful than me? But I couldn't ignore that I hadn't felt so rested for at least the last two days, although I couldn't have slept for more than two hours. More likely even less.

I was just contemplating what I could do to make it up to her, when a silent beep of her phone indicated that she had hung up. Before I could do or say anything she turned in my direction and looked at me with narrowed eyes. The kindness and pity was gone completely.

"The police called!"

"Okay?" I replied alerted to whatever that might mean.

"They inspected your computer."

I knew that - or at least I assumed. There wasn't much they could have found on it though. Just presentations, boring e-mails and maybe my non work-related internet-history. Everytime I was bored I surfed the internet and that might have happened a little too often, I guess. But since it was my firm and I was my own boss that was nothing they could really blame me for.

I stayed silent and waited for Bella to keep on explaining what the police told her, but what she told me next was the most embarrassing thing that could have happened. Ever.

"You saved a picture of me on your hard-drive!"

My eyes were about to pop out of my head. _Oh bloody hell! _I totally forgot! I grabbed the blanket a little tighter and even thought about pulling it over my head and hide beneath. _Play it cool Edward. Don't show your guilty embarrassment. And think! Just think of some stupid excuse! Fast. _

"Yes, I might have done that," was my brilliant reply.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because I.... I'm not good with computers and saved it unwittingly?"

A bitter laugh was all the answer I got. I screwed this up. Why had I saved that stupid picture? Because she was looking cute. Right. I couldn't tell her that or could I? No definitely not.

She turned away, her disappointed eyes leaving mine.

"Bella, please wait. Sit down. I'm sorry."

She stopped her walk into the kitchen, balled her fists and turned to me again.

"What the hell is going on here, Edward? I don't know you. Maybe you killed Claire after all. Maybe I'm just too naïve to see the real you. I just don't know anymore." A tear rolled down her cheek and I had to close my eyes and turn my head away in shame. "Jacob just told me that I am probably your next victim and I didn't even think about telling him that you're here in my living-room, sleeping. And then I ask you some simple question and you lie to me and I'm just so confused. So please just tell me the truth or leave, because I'm really tired now and you.... I don't know who you are."

I turned to face her again.

"Oh god Bella, please, don't cry. You _do_ know me. I didn't kill Claire. Please, just believe me. I'm stupid." I tried to think of something to say that would make this better, but there just wasn't anything left to say. So instead I shrugged the blanket off my shoulders and stood up to walk over to where she was still standing completely motionless except for the silent tears that now ran freely down her face. But as I made a few steps in her direction, she stepped backwards, a look of fright and disappointment directed at me. I stopped my movements and began talking again. The truth. She needed to hear the truth. I could give her that. At least part of it.

"I'm so sorry Bella. I saved this picture of you because... well, because you were angry with me and that made me sad and your smile in that picture made me happy again. I know this sounds stupid and it obviously _is_ stupid, but I can't help this now. I didn't kill Claire and I definitely have no intentions of killing you or anyone else for that matter. Can you please trust me again? No more lies. I promise." I risked another step in her direction and fortunately she didn't shy away from me. Her fists unclenched and she ran the back of her hand across her face to wipe the tears away. I made a few more steps in her direction until I stood right in front of her.

The desire to just kiss those remaining tears away was overpowered by my desire to just hold her in my arms for a moment and reassure her in the faith she already put in me. From this moment on I would hold the trust she was willing to show me, like a child in my arms. I owed her so much already.

I looked into Bella's eyes for any sign of uneasiness, but she just looked up to me with her red puffy eyes, the anger seemingly gone for the moment. I followed my instinct and closed the distance between us completely to wrap my arms around her fragile body and embrace her in what I hoped was a comforting hug.

As her arms went around my torso, the warmth of her body against mine made me realize that I needed this hug probably even more than her. Once she relaxed completely, her head fell against my chest so that some loose strands of her hair were tickling the skin on my neck. I loved every second of it.

I squeezed her a little tighter to let her know how much she meant to me already. All my problems were long forgotten and the only important thing was her forgiveness, her trust and that she would let me hug her for a little while longer.

A humming buzz was running through my veins, the strawberry-smell of her hair engulfing me in a a bubble of complete contentment.

Suddenly vibrations were causing the bubble to burst. My mobile was ringing in the depth of the pocket of my jeans. I was about to let it ring, not ready to end the moment we just shared, but Bella loosened her arms around me and reluctantly I let go of her as well. Not meeting my eyes she turned and walked over to her armchair to curl up in it. I just stood in the middle of the room for a few more seconds, following her with my eyes. Her mind was such a mystery to me. She wasn't crying anymore, but were we good again? Was whatever doubt the police planted in her resolved? Again the phone vibrated silently and I had no excuse to ignore it any longer. I fished it out of my pocket and glanced at the display. Esme. _Oh holy shit_. She probably was out of her mind with worry by now. Why didn't I tell her that I went out last night? Was there anything I could do right for once?

I flipped it open and heard her quiet sobs before I could even say anything. Why were all women in my life crying these days – or dead?

"Esme, I'm so sorry," I began, the apologies already feeling like second nature.

"Edward, sweetheart? Where are you?"

"I'm with ... a friend," I answered hesitantly. Was that what Bella was? A friend? I didn't know, but I couldn't tag this thing we had with another title right now.

"Are you okay? Are you with Jasper? The police were here. They're looking for you Edward. You should go to the station and tell them what you know."

"They were at our house?" I asked, ignoring her questions. I couldn't believe this. They let me leave a few hours ago and now they were harassing my mother. As if she hadn't enough problems already. _No, let's just send the police over and scare her to death. Idiots! _

"Yes, they asked for you and I thought you would be still asleep in your room. When did you leave? Did you sleep at all? They think you're on the run. Please call them and let them know where you are and that you didn't do it."

"No, I can't. They won't believe me. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do right now, but just don't worry, please. I'll call you later. Everything will be alright."

"Edward, don't hang up. What if the police comes back? What am I going to tell them? I don't want you running away. You are not running, right? You didn't do anything."

"No, of course not. Just don't worry. Things will work themselves out eventually. I'll call you later, just please stay calm and be safe."

"I don't know Edward, why can't you just come home? I don't want you to get arrested again."

"Believe me, I don't want that either. But I can't come home until I know what's going on. I will call you and let you know this evening."

"Okay, but I'm not happy with this Edward. You don't sound so good. Be careful, please. For me. I love you, son."

"I love you, too."

Until now I hadn't realised I was pacing through Bella's living room again. As I hung up, I stopped my marathon and sat down on the sofa with a sigh. Someone finally needed to have mercy on me. Please, no more crying women today!

I scrolled through a bunch of missed calls from my mother and an unknown number I assumed to be the police. This couldn't be a good sign.

I looked up at Bella, trying to get back to the moment we just had, but it was clearly gone or probably even imagined by my wishful thinking. Her eyes were still cast down and directed at the mug in her hand. I contemplated to apologise once more for saving her picture on my hard drive, but decided against it. No need to bring this up voluntarily. I was more sorry for the interruption of our embrace anyway, so I felt more comfortable to apologize for that.

"I'm sorry about the call. I left home in a hurry without telling anyone."

She didn't react, but stirred her coffee with the spoon absent-mindedly.

"Do you know how Claire's fiancé is doing? I mean it's possibly worst for him," she finally asked out of nowhere.

I was confused. Claire didn't have a fiancé. I would definitely know about that. In the office news like these were shared loud and fast. There was no way someone could _not_ hear about those things.

"She didn't have a fiancé!" I answered a question Bella never asked.

"Yes, she did! Since a few days ago."

"No, she didn't. How would you know? She didn't even have a boyfriend." And really, how could Bella know? This was nerve-wrecking again. I was in-between admiring Bella and being confused about her. I asked her for help, I didn't ask her to be Miss Know-it-all all the time. Couldn't we just go back to before my mother called? I had felt so peaceful and calm there for a moment with her in my arms.

"How would _you_ know? Listen, your obsession with Claire is not a secret anymore and that's probably why they think you did it in the first place. You should stop this fixation and accept that she was with another guy, you know." She mumbled something else I didn't get since I already had to put some effort in keeping up with the nonsense she was telling me.

She left me speechless. It was bad enough that James told the police about this weird thing with Claire, but why and when did he tell Bella that shit?

I looked her in the eyes and she stared right back at me with a conviction that allowed no protest. The worst pictures flooded my mind: a candlelight dinner in some fancy restaurant with James and Bella on opposite sides of the table. The flickering light of the candle enlightening Bella's face while they talked about me having obsessive feelings for Claire.

I shuddered, fisting my hand in the blanket I had shrugged off on the sofa earlier. I tried to say something to defend me, but no words came out. How could she even think I was obsessed with Claire when it was her stupid umbrella that had driven me crazy for the last couple of days?

Nothing made any sense in this mess.

And still, I had no idea why James was telling these things about me. There was something seriously wrong with everything and James in particular.

* * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

Who loves Stalkward? Please, raise you hand!

And many, many thanks to Bri, who is a wonderful beta and stopped us from getting Esme raped by police men. Yes, English is a difficult language after all.


	7. Offering A Warm Embrace

**Disclaimer:** Stephenie Meyer still owns Twilight. After seeing New Moon Edward Cullen owns us even more.

Massive thanks to Bri for still rocking the beta-world!

Thanks for your lovely reviews!

* * *

**Chapter 6 – Offering A Warm Embrace**

When the rain is blowing in your face

And the whole world is on your case

I could offer you a warm embrace

To make you feel my love

(Bob Dylan – Make You Feel My Love)

**Bella Swan**

I invited him into my home, I helped him, I comforted him and he had the nerve to obviously lie to me. How could a grown man and CEO of a big firm state to have unwillingly saved a picture on his computer? This was getting ridiculous.

I had been too busy with creating my perfect little image of Edward Cullen to notice that the real one couldn't live up to the fictional one at all. It felt like the image was crumbling into dust right in front of me.

Even though I didn't know the real-life-version at all, I had instinctively trusted him. Yet, I was proven all wrong. That was exactly the reason why I was usually reluctant towards people. And now, I had to correct my mistake; I turned towards the door, planning to open it as an unmistakable sign.

But then Edward suddenly rattled out a laughable "I'm sorry" and I lost control. What was he even sorry for? Coming here? Using me? Being nice and adorable sometimes? Or, really, most of all, being stupid? I didn't know, what he was sorry for, but I knew exactly, what _I_ regretted. That there was this part inside of me, that needed to help him, to trust him and to look out for him. Now, tell me, was this his fault now or mine? Confusion got the best of me, and I couldn't just keep quiet anymore. I turned to face him, my fingers pressing into my palms, desperate for some stabilisation.

Emotions took me over. I even cried. Any doubt I had inside of me wanted out, wanted to be removed. Edward admitted that he was stupid, but didn't give any more explanations. That made me just cry even more. He began to walk over, and I quickly stepped back. He shouldn't get closer, I was already muzzy enough. But then, something changed.

He said how my smile had made him happy. Well, that and that he thought that it was stupid. I had to admit that besides totally creepy his picture-saving was actually a little sweet too. He promised to never lie to me again and took another step in my direction. Somehow Edward had managed to ease my doubts almost completely. I wiped my tears away, but still felt the salt on my skin. I felt like that on the inside too: the anger gone, the lie excused, but all of this not forgotten.

I looked up, only to find a caring Edward looking at me.

Ironically he gave me what I had wanted to give him all night – a hug that probably could have calmed the shit out of a fairly serious riot.

I stopped thinking. No more head, just heart. I leant into him and with that he embraced me even tighter. And it felt … strangely right. My head nestled naturally onto a perfect spot on his chest and his heartbeat was flowing through me like a melody, filling a gap I did not realise I had inside of me. Murder, prison, lies, reputation, façade, money - it all didn't matter as there was no distance left between us. We connected.

Moments pass eventually, and so did the hug of a lifetime.

His phone woke me up from my emotional coma; I needed to break the contact. Get some air. Breathe. _Think_.

I didn't get to that point though, as I heard some Esme crying through Edward's mobile. He hesitantly told _Esme _that he was with a _'friend'_. Why was he hesitating? As the conversation got further, I realised one thing: Edward and Esme were living together. And the bastard was soothing her, while he was in my living room, hugging me like _that_. His voice was all caring and sweet, telling Esme he loved her too.

It didn't take much to figure out I was an idiot. Of course Edward Cullen would have a nice supermodel girlfriend waiting for him at home. He didn't want to put her at risk, so he came by my place. Protect Esme, nevermind putting Bella in danger. What was it with this guy? Everytime I thought I had him figured out, I was simply proven wrong.

There _was_ a connection between the two of us, but I mustn't be so stupid to think that would mean something furthermore. Edward seemed to be connected to half the female population of Newcastle. Not that this was worth anything - none of those relationships could possibly live up to the ones described in _Live Forever_ for example. Edward seemed truly more like _Wonderwall__:_ overrated and surprisingly plain.

Even if all of this was no concern of mine, it bothered me that he didn't tell his girlfriend the truth. As much as I, she deserved to know the facts. Didn't he just promise me no more lies? I was part of this and it was wrong. I might even have to reconsider that he had a thing for Claire – he seemed to twist reality till it fit him best. Wasn't there still some salt on my skin from the tears that I had shed because of him?

Edward said something to me then, but I didn't really care. I was too lost in my own thoughts.

I wondered how serious Edward's relation with Esme was. With them living together, it seemed pretty sincere. I couldn't remember a Mrs. Cullen from my researches on him, so they weren't married; maybe engaged though. Poor future Mrs. Cullen was now probably sitting at home, wallowing over her fiancé's absence. Did she even know he had been arrested? You can't keep that from people so close to you, can you? She had to know about Claire's murder and everything that happened afterwards. A picture of Miss Esme formed in my mind: blonde, tall, big blue eyes full of tears, hugging Edward after he came home from the police questioning. He hugged her back and put a hand on her head, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. My heart twitched with their intimacy and I tried to shoo those vivid thoughts away. With no luck, of course.

Engaged -- the more I thought about it the more it would fit Edward's lifestyle to be engaged to a wealthy, well-respected and of course super gorgeous and intelligent member of the circles he belonged to. To cut a long story short: everything I was not. I got sick to my stomach. Why was I even thinking about stuff like that?

Claire was dead. Compared to death, everything else looked quite superficial. Claire, was a middle-class woman like me, who I assumed, did not have to care about approval for her fiancé by the society. Without really thinking, I asked Edward if he knew how the poor guy had taken Claire's death.

Edward assured me that Claire wasn't engaged, but could I trust him? Well, he was rumoured to be obsessed with her, maybe he suppressed reality a bit. In fact he had handled the truth quite flexible during the last hours. The possibility of him lying to me again made me really angry. That, and the chance that he might actually have been involved with Claire while being with his Esme. I told him to get over it already.

_What a fucking arse are you anyway. Settle for one woman at a time, bastard. _

I was too polite to say that last bit out loud, but I mumbled it nonetheless.

I turned red from my harsh words, but nonetheless I thought he deserved it. My coffee had already gotten cold, so I put the mug down. Even more blood rushed to my face, indicating that Edward was looking intensely at me. His gaze flustered me and in any other situation, with anybody else, I would have stayed with my eyes glued to the table. But I was with Edward. Therefore, my body didn't really pay any attention to reasonable orders from my brain. Just because he stared at me, I was drawn to his eyes - I had to look up. We stared at each other for a couple of moments, and emotions flickered in his face: from disbelief to hurt and frustration, finally settling for surrender.

_Was this my fault? Was he hurt because of me? _I felt a pang of conscience.

He spoke with a calm voice, his eyes drawn to the floor.

"Listen, Bella. Claire was my assistant. I did not have any feelings or some weird kind of desire for her. I don't know why you would believe such a thing after all that happened tonight. I know now is so not the time, but before my mother interrupted us, I thought we were kind of --," he paused and looked up at me again, "-- connecting."

I am sure I forgot to breathe. The last remaining oxygen in my body kept rushing the blood through my veins. The look he gave me was something else, like he'd let me see straight into his soul:

Esme was his mother.

He was not in love with Claire.

The connection was there.

Though my brain found it hard to keep up, the heart was already a few steps ahead. If Esme was his mother, than there was no logical reason to judge him for being unfaithful. Maybe this was all a big misunderstanding. Only two people at Gateshead were insisting on Edward's relation to Claire. And really, if he had wanted her, he probably would have gotten his way with her. Just take a look at him.

"I should leave." Edward got up and took his coat.

I finally inhaled some fresh air.

I couldn't let him go like this. I just realised all those things and felt guilty for being brusque towards him. He still needed help.

"You never got your cup of tea." I tried to smile at him reassuringly, standing up myself and blocking his way.

"Please, Edward. You still have to figure out what to do, don't go all headless." I wasn't really sure what I was doing. There was only one thing I knew: I didn't want Edward to leave.

He sighed.

"I guess one cup would be fine."

I smiled; he was staying. Finally we would have a conversation without misconceptions. I went to the kitchen, hoping he would follow me and not silently disappear. I set some water up and got two new cups out. Edward stood in the door frame, seeming absent in his thoughts. Following my instincts - what was really all that was left due to my not cooperating brain around Edward Cullen - I turned the radio on. If there was a god, the guy definitely had a wicked sense of humour.

'Live forever' was playing.

I glanced towards Edward nervously, searching for any sign that he remembered our first meeting too. As I saw him grinning a little crookedly, I gladly smirked and pointed towards the small kitchen table.

"Have a seat and finally take a look at my notes in the folder right there on the table. Tea will be ready in a sec."

We both stayed silent, enjoying the soothingly gentle sound from the radio.

As I put our mugs on the table and sat down myself, I noticed Edward was staring intensely at the open folder in front of him. I leant back, took a sip and waited for him to say something. He didn't, but took a photo from the folder and held it in front of me.

_Edward being pushed into the police cruiser. _

"Oh!" I had totally forgotten about those. Edward looked at me accusingly. I could not stand it.

"What?" I blurted. "What do you expect? It's my job, alright?"

He shrugged, still not saying a word, still driving me crazy.

I tensed and leaned over the table.

"Just spill it, okay, anything you have to say!"

"Just because you have pictures of me, doesn't mean you're going to kill me, right?"

I was at a loss for words. He was mocking me. _Hello to Edward Cullen, the unpredictable. _

I rolled my eyes at his last comment and changed the subject.

"When you're finished admiring your own good looks, do you have any thoughts on my notes?"

"I didn't expect you to be this chaotic."

I glared at him.

"Seriously, you shouldn't take notes on all these different pages, how are you ever going to find anything again? Heck, I think there's even something written on a napkin in there."

"Whatever Edward."

"Just saying. Anyway, you wrote down that you didn't see Claire glowing in anticipation of a prospective wedding when you met her?"

I nodded because it was true. I hadn't sense anything like that. But I wasn't so sure anymore what was right and what was wrong.

"Maybe I simply missed it."

"Do you usually miss things while working?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Nope," I stated. Not because I was full of myself, but Ben always told me that I had a sixth sense for these things. Mostly I nodded, for the simple reason that Edward was trying to tell me something and I wanted to know what that was.

"See. And what about Mr. Barth, as you refer to him. Your notes say you got the feeling his statement was almost too carefully worded." He emphasised 'Mr. Barth' there a lot and confused me a little with that. By what else would I refer to him?

"Uh, yeah? I guess that was my impression on the guy. Can't tell you why though, as I've only met him twice. It's just a feeling, you know." That reminded me of something else.

"So, let's assume that Claire wasn't really engaged, why would he tell that to the police?"

"I have no idea," Edward said, closing the folder, shoving it aside.

"Maybe it's different than we think it is. Maybe Claire was part of this and not only a victim? I really have no idea. What else did the police tell you on the phone earlier?"

"Nothing much. Jacob basically wanted to warn me. He told me to stay away from you and asked me to tell him, if anything unusual happens. Oh yeah, and they're going to arrest you as soon as they find you." _He had a right to know, hadn't he?_

"Shit. But I figured that much. They harassed my mother this morning as well."

His constant worry about his mother was rather cute, now that I knew she wasn't his fiancée.

"I'm sorry Edward. Maybe I freaked a little over the picture earlier. I feel like this is all my fault. Jacob takes this case kind of personal. He's friends with my Dad and wants to make everything super-right. I guess I should call him and tell him that we're fine. That I talked to you and you didn't kill me and have no intention to do so."

"No, please Bella. What if he won't believe you? I don't want to be arrested. Have you ever heard of those stories, where they keep people in prison and after years they find out the person is innocent? I really don't want this. I'm sorry you had to lie for me there, but please, at least give me a head start. I need to find out what's going on." He pleaded with me and who was I to deny him anything when he asked me with those green eyes staring at me?

"I wasn't going to tell anyone that you're here."

He nodded relieved and took another sip of his tea.

All too soon he put his empty cup down.

"Thanks, Bella. But I have to go now." He didn't wait for any response and walked back to the living room, picking up his jacket. I trailed behind him and stood in the hallway. I was out of arguments to keep him in my apartment any longer.

He joined me in the corridor and before I noticed, he pressed something from his hand into mine. Though he was barely grazing my fingers, my hand instantly tingled.

"One last thing. Track five. You'll beg me to forget that you ever said it's plain and boring."

I looked down at my hand. His iPod.

He was giving me his iPod? When I looked back up, his hand was already on the door handle.

"Hey, what --," I grabbed him by his arm, "Wait! Keep it."

Basically I clung to his arm, as he let go of the handle and turned towards me again. I put my free hand up to get the small white thing back to him. He didn't make any effort to get it though. I couldn't think of anything else than to shove the damn thing against his chest, pushing, hoping he would react.

And he did, just not as I expected him to.

* * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

Sorry for the short chapter, but it was just too tempting to end it there.

Thanks a lot for reading.


	8. A Kiss Before I Go

**Disclaimer: **Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

Thanks to Bri for ruling the beta-world!

* * *

**Chapter 7 – A Kiss Before I Go**

I ain't been goin' nowhere for quite awhile

can't tell the truth in a house of lies

can't explain what I don't know

one shot, one beer and a kiss before I go

_(Ryan Adams – A Kiss Before I Go)_

_

* * *

  
_

**Edward Cullen**

I told Bella, we were '_connecting_', but seriously, what did that even mean? I knew what it meant to me, of course. It meant that I missed her touch, her warmth and her tickling hair on my neck as soon as she backed away from our embrace.

With this one word, all of it was out in the open. Or at least I thought it was. I was convinced she would comment on it, tell me to go to hell in the worst scenario, but against all expectations she didn't respond at all. I felt like a rabbit in an open field, waiting for the hunter to shoot - only she never pulled the trigger. I finally decided to leave her apartment, since waiting for the bull to fly my way was obviously the stupidest thing to do, but unfortunately - like some paralysed rabbit - I couldn't. Not when she offered another cup of tea, not when she offered another few minutes I would be allowed to spend with her. I sounded like some sick fool, but it was a fact. I couldn't go when she asked me to stay. Simple as that. And if that meant that she would give me my final blow eventually, then I had to accept it.

Figuratively spoken of course.

With a murder looming over our heads that couldn't be taken for granted.

It was a weird coincidence, that right in that moment _Live Forever_ was playing on the radio in her kitchen, because I remembered her words concerning the song clearly.

"_He's just singing about those deep connections, which last a lifetime and maybe even longer. You know, friendship and love."_

Connection. There it was again. Friendship and love. Right.

I couldn't help but smile at her, willing her to see it, to feel our connection herself. But she stayed ignorant to everything I felt, everything that stirred inside of me, when she stretched her delicate body to get some new mugs out of the cupboard above the stove. The mugs ended up on the table somehow, but I could only focus on her smirk and that funny twinkling in her eyes, when she realised what song was playing.

Some part of me was even glad that she didn't feel the things that got more difficult to ignore every minute. I wasn't right for her. I never could be right for her. Not as long as I was a fugitive anyway. So until everything was solved, I would just take everything she was willing to give me: A little more time with her, some fabulous Earl Grey and even the notes on the case she had in her small notebook.

And those notes? They were a mess. I didn't know if Bella was the creative type or something, but it took me a few minutes to understand anything at all. In the end it all came down to James being not trustworthy. He was lying to Bella, to the police and to God knew who else. Besides, it was his department in my company where something went seriously wrong. My legs twitched with the thought of going right after him and confront him with all I knew, beginning with everything concerning Bella. But of course he would deny whatever I would accuse him of, winding his slimey face out of my vague speculations.

I formed a plan right then and there.

The police had too much evidence against me already and my sudden disappearance obviously didn't help the matter. If they didn't have me so cornered and under their constant radar, I would have other options and tell them to go to hell, but obviously I was very limited in my alternatives. I shook my head at the thought. Assuming I wanted to kill Bella because I had saved that damn picture on my computer? _Ridiculous._ I swear this had something to do with Detective Black and his compulsive obsession. He didn't trust me and I could assure him, this feeling was mutual.

Everything came down to one thing: I was going to fly to Iceland. That would not only give me back some freedom, but it was also the only trace I had left.

I had to call the bank clerk from the note first, though. Mr. Henderson. Maybe I would try to call the bank in Iceland as well. But I suppose Bella was right, they wouldn't give out any information. As soon as I had that confirmed I was going to leave the country and try my luck in Iceland to find whatever Fagur Alit was. It was the only and therefore last straw to grasp on.

With this decision made I felt a little lighter and had to suppress a laugh, when in all of Bella's mess I found two pictures of none other than myself.

It was funny because just yesterday I was mad at her. Mad because of her article and because of her job in general and now I was able to laugh about it. Even about those stupid, not really advantageous pictures of myself in between her stack of papers. It was her job to write about this murder and I had to live with that. I could only hope she didn't just keep me around for a good story. But I guess that wasn't Bella's style. For all the trust she had in me, I was more than glad to give her some in return.

And those pictures were too good of a chance to put my picture-saving into perspective. I really couldn't help mocking her a bit about it. Her lips formed the cutest pout, while she rolled her eyes at me deprecatingly. I was longing to touch her lips, run my thumb across them or just kiss the pout away and make her smile, because that was by far my favourite facial expression.

But Bella redirected my thoughts back to her notes with a comment about me admiring my own good looks, which was a little ironic, because it was her beauty I was worshipping constantly. And I had the feeling she didn't even know how beautiful she was, which made her even more attractive. The way she closed her eyes when she inhaled that disgusting scent of her coffee, the way she clasped both of her hands firmly around the mug and then nipped at it like a little bird, the gracefulness with which she operated stuff in her kitchen, the fact that her apartment was neat and tidy while those notes were such a mess and that I was even paying attention to stuff like that. She had me wrapped around her little finger already and that verged on pitifulness.

We talked a bit about her notes then. I guess I made her realise what a house of lies had been built in front of us.

And that's when she mentioned that she had met James only twice before. A little information that couldn't be paid in gold. It could only mean two things: Either she was really bad in counting, or else she didn't go out with him to dinner the other day. My hopes were rising again, my heart pounding against my ribcage. I had to ask her sooner or later about this, about her interests in general. And in James. And in me.

I emptied my delicious tea before it got cold and therewith eliminated the last excuse to stay in her kitchen. It was time to go. Leave the comfort of Bella's apartment behind and fly to Iceland.

My plan to leave was set in motion when I finally got up and grabbed my jacket from where I had placed it on the sofa earlier. As I put it on, I felt the iPod in my inner pocket crashing against my ribs and suddenly remembered the tracklist clearly. I didn't know if Bella was totally convinced of my innocence and although I really assured her about my non-existent feelings towards Claire, I wasn't sure if she believed me there either. But one thing I could convince her of for sure: _Wonderwall_ was _not _boring!

She was already in her hallway, eager to get rid of me as it seemed. I tried the iPod and the batteries were still almost full. _Perfect_. Joining Bella in the corridor, I placed the player in her hand, before she could argue like I know she would like to.

"One last thing. Track five. You'll beg me to forget that you ever said it's plain and boring."

I meant it. It was _Wonderwall,_ but not the Oasis-Version. It was some cover of Ryan Adams, whose Country-tendencies normally really weren't my thing. But this was the best cover of one of the best songs and I wanted her to listen to this and I wanted her to love it.

Quickly I turned away to the door. I needed to leave. No more glances towards her, no more excuses. But as I had worried, she couldn't just let me have my way with this.

"Hey, what--," she argued and reached for my arm. "Wait! Keep it."

My arm vibrated with her touch, a shaking that reverberated through my whole body. I watched as her delicate hands clasped around my forearm, stopping me from opening her door. That and the simple request to _'wait'_ were enough to let me falter.

How could I leave when she wanted me to _wait_? She more or less pulled my arm away from the door handle, although it slipped willingly off it and turned me rather forcefully around.

I knew that if I would turn in her direction one more time, she wouldn't be allowed to hold me responsible for anything. I did it anyway, the temptation to get one last glance of her flushed cheeks too tantalising to ignore.

She held the player in front of herself for me to take, though I didn't want it. I had given it to her and wanted her to keep it. My body was still, eyes glued to hers.

Instead of giving in due to my non-cooperation and taking the player already, she shoved the iPod against my chest. Out of reflex I reached for her hand, enclosing it with mine to ensure she would keep the player inside hers.

She was so close, too close. Her hand in mine, both of them on my chest, right next to my pounding heart. Her warmth spread like electricity through me, her scent surrounding me. She looked up at me through her eyelashes with those innocent, beautiful brown eyes. I couldn't help but let my gaze drop across her flushed cheeks to her lips. _No, no, no, not the lips._ I forced myself to look up again, but it was too tempting. She leaned closer to me or maybe she didn't and it was me, who was leaning forward. It didn't matter. Her face was so close and as I released her hand, to bring mine up to her face, she didn't move.

"There are many things I would like to say to you, but I don't know how."

Instead of all the compliments, all the declarations of adoration that flowed through my mind, I quoted the song I wanted her to listen to with a voice so low, I wasn't sure if she had understood me at all. Everything else was left unsaid for now.

"I don't care," she whispered back.

I would have wondered what she didn't care about, but her big brown eyes were clearly agreeing to whatever was happening between the both of us.

I let my fingers touch her cheekbones and my thumb circled her soft skin. Her eyes closed in slow motion and I could swear she leaned into my touch. She was responding, giving me as much permission as I needed. The temptation was too much.

I closed the remaining distance between us and lowered my lips down to hers.

It felt divine.

_She_ felt divine.

I kept it a chaste kiss, just barely touching her soft lips with mine for a much too short amount of time. She didn't push me away. Apparently she wasn't reacting at all. She kept her eyes closed and her arms hung down her sides. Relaxed, not defeated. My eyes closed on their own accord and my lips met hers again, while both of my hands cupped her face. I needed her to react, to feel this, to feel us. It didn't matter that I wasn't right for her. For this one moment I was. I needed to be.

I moved my lips carefully against hers and then finally she responded. I felt her hands on either side of my waist, circling around me, pressing me closer to her. Her warm breath fanned over my face.

And then she kissed me back. She kissed me back in a style Clark Gable would've admired. Her lips moved with mine. Slowly. Testing. Tasting. While her mere touch sent a spark through me, her kiss set my whole body on fire. And I needed her so much closer. More, always more.

Apparently she did too. She tightened her arms around my torso and stumbled back a few steps until her back was against the wall, pulling me with her. My palms went from her cheeks to the wall beside her face, so I could brace myself before I fell completely into her.

I heard a quiet 'thump' behind me, but couldn't bother with it. Her arms left my body, but before I could miss them, they found their way into my hair, massaging my scalp, pushing and pulling on hair. Lips never leaving lips. The kiss wasn't slow anymore. It was passionate. Too passionate. Her breaths came fast and heavy. Maybe they were mine. I couldn't distinguish any longer. We were breathing as one, hearts beating the same beat.

Just a few more moments to keep her body close to mine. Her hands felt so angelic in my hair, her lips almost too perfect on mine.

Then I softly pulled away from my Bella.

I needed to stop this. I couldn't lose control. Ah, who was I kidding? I had lost control over ten minutes ago. This wasn't planned, this wasn't right. It was too fast, she couldn't possibly be okay with this. Tomorrow she would hate me for this, I despised myself already. I looked at her while her eyes fluttered open. Her face was still flushed, more so than before, and her hands still in my hair. She was stunningly beautiful and I immediately wanted to kiss her again. But I couldn't.

_Screw this._ _I could. _

My lips went to hers once more. Just another chaste kiss, like the first one. Lips barely touching lips. Her hands fisted in my hair, but I couldn't allow this to go any further. Where would this leave me? Us? I backed away again, my forehead resting on hers for just a second. I gave her a meaningful look, while my hand moved on it's own accord to put a lose strand of hair behind her ear. The soft and silk hair felt like butterflies in my hand.

I begged her with my eyes to be careful and to stay away from James and to not do anything stupid or reckless. But the only words that came out of my mouth were: "Be safe!"

And then I reached for the door handle again and left her apartment.

She was my little _Wonderwall_ after all.

* * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

Kissing someone in a style Clark Gable would've admired is a homage to The Postal Service.

Not liking Ryan Adams' Country-tendencies is not our own opinion, just Edwards.

Thanks a lot for reading.


	9. Just Stay

We'd like to thank everyone who reviewed or put us on alert! Special thanks to Bri for being our wonderful and awesome beta!

Thanks a lot for reading and Happy Holidays to all of you!

Disclaimer: We don't own anything, but all we want for Christmas is Edward Cullen.

* * *

**Chapter 08 – Just Stay**

_but I crash in my mind whenever you are near  
getting deaf, dumb and blind just drowning in despair  
I am lost in your flame it's burning like a sun  
and I call out your name the moment you are gone_

_(Saybia – the day after tomorrow)_

* * *

**Bella Swan**

From the moment he touched my hand, I froze in shock. Somehow we were now holding hands in a very odd way. I could feel his warm and soft chest beneath my fingers and I felt heat spread up my arms. Such a rather innocent gesture, turned into everything else when Edward's eyes left mine. He stared intensely at my lips, his eyes filled with desire. My heartbeat increased even more. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and pull him closer to me, but I was so mesmerised by only our touch that all I could do was simply lean forward. He let go of my hand and as if all energy had left it, it fell to my side. I didn't have time to grieve about the loss though, because he was now reaching for my face. I stood calm, not really able to move anyway, shocked and overwhelmed by his actions.

Could it be that he was longing to touch me, as much as I wanted him to?

The whispers of his velvet voice send cold shivers up and down my spine. He was being all poetic and quoting something, but I didn't care. He was only wasting time, I wanted him to touch me again. I needed the warmth back, the electricity. He finally let his fingers caress my face and I closed my eyes to the sweet sensation of his touch. Still, I was motionless, conjuring every inch of my body to prevent a heart attack; my bloodstream was on fire. And then I felt his lips on mine, cautious, soft. Perfect; but not enough.

He pulled away, but thankfully before I could get my body to do something his lips found mine once more. I needed to be closer to him. I needed to hear his heart beating my melody again.

I touched him, pressed myself against him and I really don't know why I didn't pass out right there. It was too much, too good to be true. If this was some kind of wicked fantasy I could at least make it _my _wicked fantasy. I kissed him, with a passion and desire I did not know I had inside of me. I don't know how, but somehow I was backed up against the wall, and his hands left my face. Swiftly I opened my eyes, afraid he would pull back from me. But he only steadied himself, with his hands against the wall, girding me. Then I saw it: A strand of hair falling into his face.

Hair wasn't supposed to be this _sexy._

I had to touch it, run my fingers through it. It was perfect. _Of course._

We were kissing and it felt like I was reborn into a better, brighter life, or maybe I was just lacking oxygen. I couldn't even remember my own name at the moment.

Finally, everything seemed to be really happening as Edward pulled away from me. In my fantasy he would never have. My hands unwillingly left his hair as he straightened up and it was simply out of reach for me. I opened my eyes to look at him, thankful to still find some desire glowing in his eyes. Hastily he lowered his lips again, kissing me, but just not right. Not enough for the fire burning in me.

He drew his arms from the wall, looking at me with intense eyes. Hypnotising me.

His fingers brushed my cheek, and his eyes kept boring into me.

"Be safe!"

Before I could realise that his eyes had left mine, he had already disappeared.

My brain was only capable of forming three words:

What. The. Fuck.

Edward had walked out on me.

I reached for the door, ripping it open, rushing into the empty staircase. I wanted to confront him, how dare he leave like that! I ran towards the stairs, clearly forgetting I was only in socks. And because I was me, I lost balance, tripped over my own feet and fell down a few stairs, only coming to a stop as my head crashed against the railing.

Warm blood sprawled across my forehead and if it wasn't already bleeding I would have liked to bang my head against the banister on purpose. The blood somehow brought me back to reality. What a stupid thing to run after a man, how pathetic!

He left. Full stop. I crawled back on my feet and carefully walked back into my apartment to treat the scratch and calm my anger.

After the bleeding eventually stopped and a patch decorated my forehead I went into the kitchen for the only thing that might help the situation.

I chewed heavily on a pickle. The poor thing stood no chance, I was confused and angry and therefore very much in need of my comfort food. Maybe I should finally try chocolate, because today it seemed that I couldn't get any comfort out of pickles.

I burned with rage. Not only had Edward left, he also hadn't told me where he was going. I hated to admit it, but our kiss... it had left me desperate for more. But it clearly was a goodbye kiss, like _see you in another life. _

Why had he kissed me anyway? And why had I kissed him? Sure, he was nice the whole time, apologising for stealing my time and everything. And, yes, wow, that hug was something else. Not to mention that it surely wasn't my fault that he was insanely beautiful.

Bringing him so close to a woman was like offering a glass of cold, juicy ice tea to a thirsty person in the dessert - impossible to resist.

I was only human after all.

Any woman with eyes would have participated in that kiss. And that's probably why he had kissed me. His life was filled with admirers, possibly most of them women, who were ready for some kissing action anytime. His sudden departure, well what about that? I guess I could not live up to his standards. _Did I kiss that bad? _I don't know, it felt alright for me. _Alright. Ha. Who do I think I was kidding?_ But Edward left in quite a hurry, eager to get rid of me as it seemed.

His actions in the hallway had successfully distracted me from asking what he had in mind for his future activities. After all, the police was tracing him.

_After all..._

The iPod! Did he take it? I peeked into the hallway and saw something white lying on the floor. I must have dropped it while kissing the moron.

Hesitantly I picked it up, not sure how it would make me feel to have a piece of Edward back in my hands. I don't know what I expected, but touching it was totally uneventful. No Edward suddenly reappearing in my door, no jolt of electricity, or anything lame like that.

I fumbled a bit with the thing before I got it to work. Anyhow, track five started to play and I was hunched up on the sofa again.

_Ryan Adams – Wonderwall_

A soft, slow guitar melody was haunting through the earplugs. Clearly Wonderwall, yet totally different.

Personal, breathtaking, somewhat darker.

Memories of Edward filled my mind. How he had annoyed me when we met for the first time. How passionate he got about Wonderwall. The way he had insulted me about the article in his office. The relief I had felt when it was not him murdered at Gateshead. The short moment we stared at each other while he got arrested. The sound of his voice calling for me outside my door. My heart skipping a beat as our fingers touched for the very first time. The time we spent in my bedroom... researching. How peacefully he had slept on my sofa. The instinctive trust I somehow felt towards him. How his embrace felt strangely right and meant to be. The epic kiss in my hallway.

And also very clearly I knew about the doubts, the jealousy, the not-knowing-Edward at all.

It was finally time to realise, to admit to myself, that Edward was important to me. Even though he walked out on me, I missed him from the second he was gone.

"Fuck!" I hissed and kicked the table.

I was so confused, my life was a mess. I had been so sure I didn't like Edward. He was annoying, damn rich, snotty, arrogant, knowing it all and gutless, leaving me like that. And on the other hand, I was mysteriously drawn to him. I liked him. A lot.

The song came to an end, but Edward was still haunting my mind. I had to confess, this version made Wonderwall appear less plain and a lot deeper.

But still it was no comparison to Live Forever, I assured myself.

Clueless about how, I somehow manoeuvred through the music Edward obviously listened to. It was quite a mixture. Classical music combined with Indie, older stuff like 50s blues-music, locals like Maximo Park, powerful Muse and many, many bands and musicians I had never heard of. Discovering that I couldn't really criticise his choices annoyed me a bit and I switched the player off.

I lay still on the sofa, my eyes getting heavier and heavier by the night's events. I was exhausted. Just before closing them, my eyes fell on the clock, and I winced. It was already past eight, and I needed to get to work.

As soon as I was in the office Ben startled me.

"Bella! I want to see what you have about the Cullen Murder. It's going to be front page, you know that."

"Sorry, the draft is not ready." Basically, there was no draft.

Ben raised his eyebrows.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Am I laughing?" I was stomping past him to my desk.

"I'm working on it, okay. I'll get back to you about it."

He looked at me, thoughtfully.

"You okay? What's with your head?"

Automatically I touched my forehead, feeling the patch covering the scar.

"I'm fine," I snapped at him, a little too harshly.

He lifted his hand in surrender and backed away from my desk. Guess I needed to work on my temper today. I was not fine. I was far from fine. For years, I had been enjoying being by myself and now Edward Cullen was sucking all my life into his. And there seemed to be nothing I could do about that.

After a heavenly tasting cup of hot coffee I was finally ready to start my work. Ben wanted me to write an article that touched the reader, there had to be emotions that caught his attention. That usually works best with the victim, because everybody already feels sorry for the poor gal. I should focus on Claire McNamara. What were her dreams, her desires? How did she spend her last day? Who was she survived by? And last but not least, why did cruel fate strike her?

Did I have answers to all of that? Not so much.

Was I okay with asking those questions? Not so much, either.

I didn't want to make money or anything out of Claire's death. All I wanted was justice and certainty. But if I didn't write the article, someone else would. If I did it myself, I could at least make sure that it was respectful.

I should start with confirming my statement at the police station and getting some more information about the investigation and seeing if Edward was in custody. Even though I was cross with him about leaving, I didn't want that to happen. But maybe he did the reasonable thing for once and turned himself in. Staying fugitive made him only more suspicious. And getting more suspicious was the last thing he needed.

I got my bag and decided I'd walk to the police headquarters instead of driving, so I had more time to rearrange my thoughts. And for the opportunity to listen to some music; quite accidentally I had an iPod with me. I skipped forward to Track 5 once more, just to make sure it still was no better than Live Forever.

As I arrived at the station I was told to find Detective Black's office on the third floor. There was no name tag at the door and considering the number of boxes it looked like Jacob had just moved in.

He was standing with his back towards me, storing a few files in the shelf behind him. I knocked at the door frame to get his attention; he turned and smiled at me widely when he recognised me.

"Bells! So glad to see you! I'm glad you dropped by."

He shook my hand and I once again wondered, why he was calling me Bells, a privilege that only my father was holding. Maybe Jacob had overheard that sometime.

"Sure, no problem. Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure, go ahead."

"Did Charlie call me Bells around the office?"

"Yes, of course. I kind of picked that up. Do you mind?"

"Well, I prefer Bella. Only Charlie insists on calling me Bells."

He nodded.

"What happened to your head?"

_Oh, nothing much, I chased your fugitive after he kissed me senseless. _

I shrugged. "Don't worry, I just tripped."

Jacob raised an eyebrow and grinned a little before his expression got serious.

"You need to be more careful." I didn't know if we were still talking about my clumsiness only. He offered me a seat.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Sorry, I haven't put my coffee maker out yet."

"Just moved in, huh?"

"Yeah, finally a office for myself."

In police talk, this meant that he was promoted, and his eyes beamed with pride. I got down to business, besides I wasn't here for small talk.

"So, what's new?"

"I'm sorry but we haven't found Cullen yet. But I'm sure we will in the next few hours, the guy can't disappear. You know we have our best people working non-stop on this."

Curiosity washed through me. If he was not in custody, where the hell was he instead?

"I know. But I don't think I'm in danger, Jacob. Saving a picture on your hard drive doesn't mean anything. It's not a crime, is it?"

"Well, that depends. It sure could lead to one. It's not all wedding cake out there, Bella." I wanted to protest, but he raised his hands, silencing me. I rolled my eyes and went to another topic.

"What about Claire? How's the family and her fiancé holding up?"

"How are they supposed to? We had an officer from the local police station in Newquay deliver the sad news to her parents. He reported back to me that they were shocked, disbelieving. Of course we had them questioned as well, apparently they didn't keep very close contact with Claire. They were not okay with her moving up to Newcastle."

I felt pity for Claire, hearing that. "So, they didn't talk at all?" I bet they regret that now.

"Rarely. They've never heard about engagement-plans, or a boyfriend. but they hadn't heard from each other since Christmas. They also don't know about friends here in Newcastle, people she spent time with. Nothing." Jacob sounded frustrated.

"Dead end?"

"Seems like that. We have a colleague though," he sorted through some of his papers, searching, "Lauren, Lauren Mallory, testifying that Claire told her about the engagement on Wednesday. She also asked for discretion, because Claire and Eric," he looked at me, explaining, "that's the future husband, hadn't talked to their parents yet about the marriage. Unfortunately, that's all we have – a first name."

"What about friends?"

"Another dead end so far. We've checked with the neighbours, but apparently nobody cared; she lived in one of those big, anonymous apartment blocks. It turned out that she was highly in debt. She was a few months behind in her rent, and her telephone has been dead for about four months. We're still checking address books and such, but the murder happened over a day ago and with it being all over the news, I guess anybody who really cared would have shown up until now."

"So that's all, two people reporting an engagement somehow gave the guy a motive in which office she was murdered?" I raised an eyebrow at Jacob. This was ridiculous.

"What about finger prints, security cameras and the like?" _Like, some real evidence?_

"Gateshead has no security system. Cullen's fingerprints were everywhere but since it's his office, I can't prove anything by that. It was not enough, that's why I had to let Cullen go yesterday. Don't forget we also have the fact, that he got into a fight with the victim only few hours before the murder. But now, since he's fugitive – whole new story and it's the only possible version of the murder we have right now. And I want that bastard behind bars as soon as possible before someone else," Jacob shot me a meaningful look, "gets hurt."

I realised there was no arguing with Jacob today. There was no imperative reason for Edward to be arrested but there were a lot of possibilities that Jacob would sure enough turn to account to solve the case. Maybe Edward was right with his assumption, they _wanted _him to be the murderer. And how much of that was my fault? If only he hadn't saved that stupid photo of me, I would be out of this and the policemen wouldn't be so nervous and eager to rescue the former chiefs daughter and receive quite possibly a lot of honour.

Maybe I should tell Charlie about the whole mess. But how exactly should I explain to him, why I was involved in this? Because I had some kind of need to help Edward Cullen and that I trusted him?

Charlie would surely want to be in on the investigation again and I guess that would only make things worse. He would constantly worry about me, and because my connection to all of this was Edward, he would probably blame him already. Not to mention that the picture thing would be kind of embarrassing. No I didn't want Charlie worrying over this. He should fully enjoy his retirement.

So, Charlie was no option and Jacob seemed kind of determined; maybe Edward really had to prove his innocence on his own.

* * *

Well, do you agree with Bella's thoughts?

Chapter title "Just Stay" is borrowed from Kevin Devine's awesome song.


	10. Leave Your Heart, Change Your Name

Thanks to our Beta-queen Bri and major thanks to you guys. Reviews enlighten my day frequently!

Disclaimer: This belongs to Stephenie Meyer although I doubt she wants to have it.

* * *

**Chapter 9 – Leave your heart, change your name**

_Leave your heart_

_change your name_

_live alone_

_eat your cake._

_(The National – Vaderlylle, Cry Baby)_

* * *

**Edward Cullen**

What the hell had I done?

The rumours are confirmed and now it's official: The award for the worst person ever goes to – insert imaginative drumroll - Edward Anthony Cullen!!! Thank you very much!

I sat in my car on some country road outside of town. _Far_ outside of town. My head rested against the steering wheel, although from time to time I lifted it, just so I could crash it down to the leather again. Unfortunately, it didn't hurt. I deserved to be hurt. Maybe I could convince Jasper to beat some sense into me.

I kissed her. I really just kissed her. Those words vibrated back and forth in my mind. I had never done something like that before. Well the kissing I had done before, but never had I kissed someone and then ran away. What kind of chicken shit does that?

Apparently me.

I didn't even wait for her to say something. Not before and not even after this legendary kiss.

_Before_ and _after_ the kiss. I guess I could divide my life into two chapters. Before Bella and after Bella. Someone should do a new computation of time or something. Who was Jesus Christ anyway?

Bella, the murder that I didn't do and everything I planned vigorously in my head for the immediate future were my direct ticket to hell.

I gave myself a few more minutes to wallow in self-pity and disgust, before I braced myself to do the things that needed to be done. But just thinking about that kiss, about her lips on mine and her hands in my hair made my whole body ache. It wasn't a good ache, but also not a bad ache. It was just there, like a constant reminder of what I was missing.

I lifted my head one final time off the steering wheel but it was as if all strength had left me. It sank right back against the head rest.

_God, Cullen, man up. Be strong for once!_

I gave myself an internal pep talk and finally reached for the phone in my jacket pocket and the little yellow note along with it.

Quickly dialling the number of Mr. Henderson of NatWest, I already thought about where to get the number of that Icelandic bank without ripping another page out of a phone book.

"Anne Miller, NatWest Newcastle speaking. How may I help you?" a much too happy voice greeted me.

"Good morning Miss. I would like to speak to Mr. Henderson, please."

"Of course Sir, whom should I announce?"

I quickly measured the option to give out a fake name, being a fugitive and all, but the only chance to get answers was to be myself. The boss of _Gateshead Windpower_.

"Cullen, Edward Cullen."

At least I sounded like James Bond and not like one of the bad guys. Although, come to think of it, Bond wasn't a pacifist either.

"Of course Mr. Cullen. Just a moment, please."

Some annoying midi-sound jingled through the line for a few seconds until I was greeted by Mr. Henderson.

"Mr. Cullen, how come I get the pleasure of your call this early in the morning?"

I glanced at the clock on the dashboard, instantly relieved when I saw it was already past eight. Not conspicuously early.

"Mr. Henderson. I'd like to get directly to the point of this. During the annual audit I've checked the statements of account and I'd like to request the details you have for the firm 'Fagur Alit' in Iceland. We've been transferring money to the company."

"I'm sorry Mr. Cullen, but I'm used to Mr. Barth handling the accounting. Has there been any problem regarding our business relation, because I assure you we are willing to do our--"

"No, cooperating with you is fine," I quickly interrupted. "It's just, Mr. Barth is ill and unfortunately we have to handle the audit during his absence." The lies were coming quite freely now.

"Ah, I see, would you be so kind to send Mr. Barth my best regards. As for your request I'm afraid we don't have any more information on a transferee than what's already on the statement of account," Mr. Henderson answered and my last hope came crashing down on me. Bella was right. This would have been too easy.

"So, who has the information on the transferee? Your colleagues in Iceland?"

"Yes, Mr. Cullen. The house bank of this company would have the same informations as NatWest has about your firm. But I'm afraid due to banking secrecy, they are not allowed to give information to anyone besides the firm itself."

I exhaled into the speaker, the desperation constantly growing. But of course I got his point. I wouldn't want my bank to give out information to some random guy on the phone either. I thanked Mr. Henderson anyway and hung up. Maybe I should have told him to inhibit any further transfers that may be assigned, but I didn't want to raise any suspicion. It wasn't necessary for anyone to know that I was about to discover what was going on. No need to warn and alarm those criminals any further.

A call to the Icelandic Bank was a dead end. They wouldn't give me the information I needed and certainly not on the phone. Bella had been right all along. It was too naïve to think they would tell me anything.

As expected: a journey to Iceland was what I had to do.

I hit one of the speed-dials on my phone and after three rings Jasper answered groggily. I clearly wasn't in the mood for smalltalk and almost certain Jasper would understand the hurry I was in.

"Jasper, I need your help!"

"Edward! Well a good morning to you, too. I'm fine, thank you for asking. It's not like I tried calling you all the time. Where are you and what the hell happened?" His voice shifted from concerned to angry in between two sentences.

"I'm fine, everything's just fine. Can we talk? It's important. Are you alone?"

"Uhm, what? No. Alice is here. But whatever it is, you can talk. There are no secrets between the two of us."

"Ah well, that's too sweet Jasper, but I don't want any more people in this than necessary."

"What did you do? Don't tell me you killed this Claire after all."

"Blimey! Of course not. Are you alone at last?"

"Yes, Alice is still sleeping. I'm in the kitchen."

"Good. Listen, I need to talk to one of your mates. You know, the ones from your past--," I trailed off. I knew this was hard for Jasper to talk about and I felt bad for even asking, but it was my only chance to get what I wanted.

"They are not my mates anymore." He was firm in his answer and I knew I needed to word this carefully.

"I know and I'm sorry," I apologised, thinking a moment about how to phrase my request properly. Eventually I decided I just had to tell him without beating around the bush. There was no way to put a gloss on this. "Jasper, I need a new passport."

His answer came immediately.

"Go to the local registration office."

"You know what I mean. Please, don't make this hard on me."

"Stop it right now, Edward. I haven't told you all about my shit, because I want you to participate or something. I told you because I changed. My life changed and I wanted to start all over with honesty and without lies and especially without those people."

"I know Jasper and I'm sorry. Believe me, I wouldn't ask if I knew any other possibility."

"Tell me why!" he demanded.

"No Jasper, I don't want you involved. Just give me a name and I'll handle it myself."

"Why?" he asked again, not backing away.

"Because you're my friend."

"Wow Edward, that's a low blow."

"I know. Did it work?"

He was quiet for a second and I could already sense my victory.

"Dammit! Go to the Middlefields Industrial Estate near the harbour. Ask someone for Jason. They know who he is down there. And when they shoot you in the head, don't blame me!"

"I won't."

"Good."

"Thank you Jasper, I owe you one."

"You owe me more than one."

"Probably."

It was quiet again and I was about to tell him goodbye, when he restarted talking.

"Is there any chance you are going to tell me why you need a new passport?"

I considered this for a second and concluded it couldn't hurt to tell him at least something. Like he said, I owed him big time!

"The police are looking for me and I need to get out of town to prove my innocence, 'cause no one else will."

"Geez Edward!" I could all but hear him roll his eyes. "Sometimes I'm wondering why I consider you my best friend. First, please stop this self-pity-party... '_cause no one else will..._'," he imitated my choice of words. "Really Edward. That's pathetic. Second, you are going to commit a crime to prove you're innocent?"

"If you put it that way it sounds a little weird, but yes, I guess that's what I'm doing."

"You're insane."

"Yeah thanks. That's the encouragement I needed."

"You're welcome. Listen Edward, I understand that I can't convince you otherwise. I know how you are when you set your mind on something and how you think you're unmistakable and always right, but really, be careful. Don't go to Jason after dark. He's scary enough in daylight. And really, just reconsider this once more. It's totally stupid!"

"Thanks Jasper, I appreciate your concern, but I know what needs to be done now. Is it okay to tell them you sent me, or should I leave your name out of this?"

"Well, I doubt they're going to help you when you just tell them you're the fugitive Edward Cullen. They're really careful nowadays. Oh and plan to bring a lot of cash. They probably know who you are and won't make it cheap. Dammit Edward, I should go with you. It's not safe for you or anyone really to go there by himself."

"No!" I blurted out a little too fast. I didn't want him involved in this mess more than absolutely necessary. "I will be careful," I added and it was a promise I intended to fulfil.

Jasper tried to convince me otherwise a few more times. He wanted me to leave this alone or to let him help me, but finally Alice appeared in his kitchen and I knew that her presence was all he needed to stay at home. He wouldn't leave her alone for this. And he shouldn't.

We hung up and as soon as the line went dead, my thoughts went back to my Bella. I knew I had no right to use this possessive pronoun, but I couldn't help it. At least in my head, she was mine. My beautiful Bella. I was a little obsessed before, but now I was brainwashed or something. What would I give to just _be_ with her again.

Since that was not an option, I headed for the bank instead. I needed cash for my plan to work out. And probably a lot of it. During a little detour on my way back into town I _accidentally_ passed by Bella's apartment. Of course that didn't make any sense at all. There was nothing to be seen. Not even a light on, but I just had to do it. That happens a lot lately. Like I'm not able to think and I just have to do things.

Kissing Bella was one of those unintentional things. And in that case I was glad my brain didn't argue with my instincts for too long.

At the bank I headed straight for the counter because those cash-machines had limits I was about to exceed. The friendly woman looked a little confused when she handed me a quite big amount of cash, but I guess stranger things happen in banks than me withdrawing money.

I stuffed the stack of notes in the inner pocket of my jacket, fingers trailing carefully across the lining were my precious iPod formerly resided. I had the whole playlist memorised, the melodies now haunting me. Would she listen to them even if she hated me? Would she like them? Would she finally like _Wonderwall_?

After sliding behind the steering wheel, I fumbled with the radio until I found a decent station and started the motor eventually.

The thought of where I had to drive next, left me with trembling hands.

I shouldn't be such a coward, but I knew what those people had done to Jasper and that only Alice was able to make him leave that shit behind. He told me about his past shortly after my father died, when our friendship crossed that thin line between acquaintance and friendship. Since then we shared a thick bond of acceptance and trust that meant more to me than I could ever tell him. I felt bad using his connections to the organised gang down at the harbour, but who else should I confront with my request? They were dangerous and absolutely lethal if you accidentally stomped on someone's foot, but I had to take the risks if I wanted my plans to work out.

The Volvo rolled down the highway towards the Tyne river, while I flipped through the stations again, looking for some classical music. I missed my iPod more from minute to minute. Was Bella listening to it at least?

The houses got darker and dirtier outside the confines of my car and out of fear for my Volvo, I parked it a little away from where the houses were more or less ruins. While I circulated expertly into a narrow spot on the side of the street, my eyes fell onto the reflection of myself in the rear-view mirror. I didn't think of myself as a vain person, but for a second I was a little shocked. The mess on my head that people were supposed to call hair, was another reminder of my Bella and her capable gentle hands. It was a nice and torturous reminder at the same time. Since I had no intentions to let those criminals know what I did this morning, I tried to straighten it out, pushing and pulling to flatten it down a bit. As always, it didn't turn out to be a very successful try, but as I stepped out of the car, the wind did the rest. It was colder out here than in the city. The closeness of the sea was enough to drop the temperature by a few degrees and to let the air faintly taste of salt.

I closed the buttons of my jacket, not only to secure the money on the inside, but also because it really was cold. After a short orientation and some looking around, I walked in the direction where I assumed the bad guys to be. I had no idea if the dark side even worked before sunset, but I figured I had to give it a try.

I wandered for a few minutes and soon the harbour-quarter was within eyeshot. It was a dingy and bedraggled neighbourhood. The plaster was falling off the old red brick walls, while graffiti had been sprayed on every wall within the reach of someone's arm. Just initials or curse words, nothing I would consider art. The windows were mostly broken or so dirty they didn't deserve the word window anymore. I walked over the deserted cobble stone pavement until I finally saw two guys in their early twenties sitting on the stairs in front of a building, which was in no better condition than the other ones I had just passed. Trying to avoid thinking about Jasper's comment about shooting people's heads too much, I approached them, anxiety slowly making itself known in the form of my increasing heartbeat.

I thought about what they say about animals. You shouldn't let them know your fear. This should work with human beings as well, right? It's not like I'm a very muscular or scary person, but I definitely could pretend to be one. Hands in pockets, I straightened up and at least tried to look at them and not on the pavement, which was what I would preferably do.

They didn't care at all.

They didn't even notice me until I was standing right in front of them, clearing my throat louder than necessary.

The boys looked up slowly, their puffy eyes showing their extensive drug use. Their clothes were scruffy and worn down, their hair long, greasy and messy. I internally laughed about myself, trying to smooth my hair out before facing the criminals.

"Who are you?" one of them demanded, more out of boredom than out of interest.

I wasn't really comfortable with telling them my name or anything really, so I opted for a counter-question. "I'm looking for Jason. Can you tell me where to find him?"

"Sure!" the other one answered and as he didn't continue I felt the need to say something again.

"So, are you going to tell me?"

"That depends, bro! How much is this information worth for you?"

I couldn't believe my ears. Both of them could barely see out of their eyes and were still able to blackmail me?

"Alright, what if I give you ten pounds?" Their eyebrows rose and I quickly added an "each!" behind my sentence. One of them huffed, while the other one just stared at me expectantly. I raised my offer to twenty pounds and the first one chuckled, obviously amused.

"I tell you what. We show you exactly where to find Jason, when you give us fifty pounds each."

I swallowed. Is this how it's supposed to work? Maybe I should just go and find this guy myself. Oh well, it was just money. I handed them each a note after they had assured me they would lead the way and fortunately that's exactly what they did. However, that it was just one block down the road and I, regrettably, gave one hundred pounds to some kids, who would buy drugs from my money just to lead me a few yards to a building I wasn't even sure I wanted to go into.

They left me standing in front of the grey house, which built a monotonous force with the grey sky above. The windows weren't broken, but some of them were closed with shutters and the graffiti was still in place. Just the awry neon sign over the entrance indicated the club or bar that would await me inside. It read 'Eclipse', although the lights of three letters were broken down. I missed the comfort of Bella's apartment more than ever before.

Of course there was no doorbell to ring and I had to make a decision of running and screaming or being brave and just trying the door handle. Being brave sounded like the better alternative in my head and without considering the possible consequences, I stepped onto the front porch and turned the knob with a loud creak. The door swung open into a dark hallway.

The timber floor board cracked with each of my steps and if this Jason was somewhere in the building he surely was aware of my presence by now. The noises of the old house were doing a better job than any doorbell could. I just hoped that at least the pounding of my heart was only audible for my own ears.

As I slowly walked down the corridor, unsure about my destination, suddenly a tall and skinny man appeared in front of me.

"Hey man, what are you doing here?" he asked and I tried not to stutter when I repeated my request to find Jason. I silently wished I had watched more of The Sopranos or something similar. That way I would know how to behave in such an environment.

Besides exceeding the speed limits from time to time, I had never really done anything against the law. Well, I had drunk a beer once when I was 13, but it tasted bitter and pretty terrible so I didn't try it again before I was legal. I surely could use one now, though. Or a shot of good Scottish whisky. Or anther kiss from my Bella. Yeah, these were the drugs I craved, mentioned in ascending order of degree of current desire.

But instead of some fulfilment of my desires, I had this weird guy asking me what I wanted from Jason.

"Well, Jasper sent me," I began and instantly saw the shift in tall-guy's posture. "He told me about the great business one could do with Jason."

At least I had the feeling I sounded quite confident there. Truth be told, it was a lot easier, when I could hide behind Jasper's name, which clearly rang a bell around this place still. He had made himself quite popular in this neighbourhood after all.

"Of course, Sir. Please follow me," tall-guy replied and I followed him not showing my uneasiness.

This way seemed a lot more complicated than the one I paid a hundred pounds for before, but it was a relief that tall-guy apparently didn't expect me to pay him for his service. We walked through the bar, which even provided a dirty little dance floor, through a couple of doors and some curtains until we finally reached our destination in the back of the building.

Tall-guy knocked on one of the more stable-looking doors of this house and a hoarsely, rough voice barked "Come in!" in response.

I entered the room right behind tall-guy, who introduced me as best as he could.

"Sorry to bother you again, Sir, but I found this fella in the hallway. He said Jasper had sent him."

The formerly blocked view was now free, as tall-guy stepped aside a little. With a raised eyebrow a man, who I guessed to be Jason, eyed me from behind his large wooden desk.

This office was in better shape than I had expected it to be. The carpet was fairly clean, the leather chair behind and even the ones in front of the desk looked expensive, while the one big window of the room was undamaged and even clean. The view however was not spectacular. Just a grey backyard with some more graffiti. It was a typical back room of a criminal, but a good one at that.

Everything about the man behind the desk screamed villain. Not because he looked dirty or poor or anything like that. Quite the opposite. The neat suit, the gold chains dangling around his neck and wrists, the meticulous gelled hair and the respect with which he was addressed by tall-guy proved his position in this community only further.

His eyes were dark, his thin lips pale, the skin wrinkled. I estimated him to be in his late fifties.

"Jasper?" he asked, the left eyebrow still raised. "I haven't heard from him in a long time. How is my friend?"

I knew one thing for sure. This guy wasn't Jasper's friend. But I decided to play along.

"Oh he's fine. Great even. He sends his regards."

"Well, well. So you are a friend of him?"

"Yes." At least one word which wasn't a lie.

"I see." He paused and motioned with a waving hand gesture for tall-guy to leave the office. Said man turned and strolled out of the door, closing it behind him.

Silence filled the room. Alone with the devil himself. Nice.

"So, how may I help you? Does Jasper need anything?" He spoke slow and secure. His smoky voice was unnerving to say the least.

"Oh no, Jasper's all good. I'm here because I need a new passport."

"A passport? Why don't you go to the local registration office?"

Very funny. I think I've heard this one before. _Smart ass! _

"I might need one with a different name on it than my own."

"Ah, I see. But that would be illegal, wouldn't it?"

So that's how we play this game now? Him pretending not to know what I was talking about? He was probably afraid that I wasn't serious or that I had been sent by the police to discover his... business.

I groaned.

"Listen, I'm wanted for murder and I'm not in what you could call a good mood, so please stop playing these games and tell me how much a new passport would cost me."

His lips turned into a diabolic grin, which literally creeped the hell out of me. A shiver ran down my spine.

"You are Edward Cullen, aren't you?" he asked and the blood disappeared from my face. So much for staying anonymous and getting a new ID. My shocked expression must have been answer enough for him. "Now _that_ is interesting. Please my friend, have a seat. I didn't know Jasper had such wealthy friends." I sat down, not because I wanted to get comfortable, but because I was afraid I might pass out otherwise.

"You were all over the police radio this morning. It was quite entertaining when I listened to it earlier. They think you're going to kill the retired chief's cute little daughter next. Really amusing. It's not often that things like this happen in good old Newcastle. Good job! And now you're here and about to leave the country? Yeah, probably the best you can do in your situation."

Was I supposed to say something now? I couldn't. My only reaction was a growl deep down in my stomach when he just mentioned the possible death of Bella. Caused by me no less. It was laughable, but it made me angry as well. I kept it quiet nonetheless, while Jason continued.

"Well, I'm going to tell you the rules of this. And only once, so listen closely." His eyes narrowed even further, while he leaned over his desk a bit and raised a finger. "First. This won't be cheap and I only take cash. Second. If you tell anyone or so much as think about telling anyone about this office, I'm either going to make your life hell or I'm simply going to kill you. Depends on my mood. I guess Jasper will be dead, too. I trusted him once, but you know, things might change. Third. This will take about a week. I don't want you here and I don't want you to come back. You draw too much attention as it is. When it's ready, I'll have someone bring it to you and for this reason someone will call you and ask for your place of residence. Are we clear?"

Well, did I have a choice? "Yes, crystal. But this whole process needs to be fastened. One week is... too long."

"Show me the amount of money you're intending to spend on this."

I opened the buttons of my coat and revealed a quite big amount of banknotes, which I placed on the table as casual as possible.

The little Dollar-symbols behind his eyes were impossible to miss. Money rules the world after all.

"I'm going to contact my mates in London. Maybe I can do something for you. Expect this to be ready around Monday then. Now hand me a photo and tell me the information you want on the ID."

_Photo?_

"Photo? I don't....."

"Are you sure, you're friends with Jasper? He is never unprepared. Give me your original passport then. I'm going to scan this and have my people work with it."

Is it safe to give these people your real ID? Probably not.

_Oh well. _I handed it over.

While he did something with it on his PC and with other devices, he asked me for a new name and birthday and said, we couldn't change my real eye colour unless I wanted to wear contacts all the time.

I decided for Anthony Masen as my new name, which was actually my middle name and I wasn't creative enough to think of something else under the pressure Jason's gaze provided. I wasn't sure about my new date of birth, so I randomly picked a date.

When everything was said and done, Jason asked me for a phone number, where one of his guys could reach me, but as I was about to give him my mobile number, his brows furrowed.

"This isn't your usual number, right? It's a secure phone, isn't it?"

We both knew it wasn't, but I shook my head nonetheless.

"God, how I hate to work with such greenhorns like you. How come you're so rich pretty boy? You have no brains at all."

He thought for a second, stood up, took a pretty big bunch of keys out of his pocket and walked over to a metal closet on the other side of the room.

From my point of view, I couldn't see what was in there, because the door was blocking my view, but after a short moment, he closed the door again and threw a little mobile phone in my direction. Fortunately at least my reflexes were quite fast, so I had no problems catching it. There was absolutely no desire to find out what he would do to me, if I let this fall onto the ground.

The phone was new and fancy and even better than my own as it seemed. I eyed it for a second, before Jason settled behind his desk again and began talking.

"You should be glad I like you, pretty boy. You are quite the entertainment. Take the phone as a gift, but do me a favour and throw your old one away. This one is secure. The police can't find you via GPS and the calls can't be overheard. I've got my best men working on this kind of technology. I've got the number, so expect someone to call as soon as your passport is ready."

I was glad when everything was finally over and Jason dismissed me. I found my way out of the building and hurried out of this neighbourhood. I had definitely been out here long enough. As soon as I reached my car, I slipped into the driver's seat and began to copy the most important numbers out of my old phone and typed them into the new one. Then I turned the old one off, with hopes they hadn't traced this GPS thing yet, silently wondering why I had been so stupid in the first place.

It was already afternoon by now and there were still a lot of things that needed to be done. My first priority was to find a bed for the night. And a roofed one at that.

My own apartment was out of the question and so was Esme's house. I considered Jasper, but there was no need to bring him more into this sick game than I already had. Bella's couch... well, no. I couldn't even allow my thoughts to go there. And not only to keep her safe from the dangerous murderers out there.

I needed a neutral place to sleep and hide for the next three nights. A hotel which wouldn't require an ID or a credit card. And I certainly had never slept in one of those. The only thing I could think of were those transient hotels where they let rooms by the hour.

I was in for some great nights for sure.

* * *

We both have been to Newcastle once, but we are not that familiar with the city structure. The quarter around the harbour might be one of good, hard-working people, but we thought a harbour would be quite a good setting for some criminal stuff going on. But this all came from our imagination.

The Sopranos are a pretty famous US TV-series about a family in the Mafia business.

Sorry this has been a chapter without Bella, but things will change very soon.

Thanks for reading.


	11. At Arm's Length

Without our wonderful beta Bri this wouldn't be possible at all. So we love her - and all of our lovely reviewers of course (YOU!!) - truly, madly, deeply.

Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. All the other crap is ours.

* * *

**Chapter 10 - At Arm's Length**

_and leave the rest at arm's length  
don't brush with him, he might have diseases  
and leave the rest at arm's length  
steer clear of the grasp, girl -- run, run, away _

_(Frightened Rabbit – Good Arms vs. Bad Arms)_

_

* * *

**Bella Swan**  
_

It was Saturday; the Tyne was glistening in the bright afternoon sun and I was walking towards the beautiful Bridge Café. It could've been a perfect day: Take a little walk at the riverside, get some coffee, perhaps read a book. I sighed. There was nothing like that for me today as I had an appointment coming up.

Even though the scenery was beautiful, it was ruined by a slight distraction - I felt strangely observed. I fumbled for the sunglasses in my bag, so no one would see the haunted expression in my eyes. My eyes fixed on the messy contents of my handbag for a moment and I almost tripped over my own feet. _Same shit, different day. _Annoyed with myself, I shoved the big black glasses onto my nose. I swear, I was becoming paranoid. Since I had gotten out of my car I had the constant feeling someone was watching me. Shooting sideway glances to nothing and nobody in particular, I kept walking nonetheless. I guess being involved in a murder somehow makes you edgy like that.

My short walk came to an end when I reached the Café. It was located right next to the High Level Bridge – a place providing stunning views of the river. I had been here before and always loved the friendly, cosy atmosphere. Since I was the first one to arrive, I choose to sit on the rear end of the outdoor terrace, where the tables weren't surrounded by too many neighbours. Sunglasses still on, I got settled at the table until a cracking noise coming from the hedges around the Café startled me. But as I looked up from the menu, all I saw was a small black cat hustling away from the bushes nearby. _You're imagining things again,_ I thought.

However, there was no time to wonder about my paranoia any longer, when a clearly not imagined hand was placed on my shoulder. Fighting the urge to give a shriek with the sudden touch, I looked up, my glimpse leading me directly to James Barth's roguish face.

"James," I nodded, weakly smiling at him, desperately trying to find my journalistic confidence. He kept his hand on my shoulder a few seconds too long before he spoke.

"Did the sun heat up a hundred degrees or did you just smile at me?"

_Ew. He really just said that, didn't he? Note to self: No more smiling. _

"I appreciate that you could make it today." I ignored his lame-pick up line.

"It is my pure pleasure," he replied, taking the chair across from mine. Palsy-walsy people seriously make me sick. And this one in particular made me nervous too.

"Well, like I already told you on the phone, I'm still researching the Gateshead murder and I'd like to talk to you about it some more." He kept staring at me and I still tried to ignore him the best I could. I had to keep from him that I knew something was wrong.

"Why the hurry? Let's order something first." He called for the waiter and ordered himself a pint while I settled for coffee and a cinnamon crusted apple pie. The coffee reminded me of the morning with Edward. I couldn't help myself wondering what he would've ordered if he were here with me right now. Probably some Earl Grey; no Coffee for sure.

As the waiter left our table, I instantly proceeded to my original topic and got one of my notebooks out.

"How's the working atmosphere been at _Gateshead_ most recently?"

"You're really on the ball, aren't you?" He was getting on my nerves, mostly because he was avoiding every topic I provided. I rolled my eyes, thankful for the sunglasses. I knew it was probably rude to wear them when your opponent didn't, but I decided I'd risk being rude in this case. My intention was to show as little as possible of myself to James Barth because he creeped me out. Surprisingly, my silence was enough to let him continue.

"Well, there probably wasn't any work done the last few days. Everyone was just trying to keep up with all the news and we were too shocked to go back to business as usual."

"Very understandable with the murder of a co-worker."

"Sure, everybody is grieving for Claire. But the shock is mostly about the boss being the murderer. I'm afraid that we all need to realise - and I'm sorry I have to express this - that Edward Cullen's high horse is in fact a very little pony."

I knew that this was serious, but I couldn't help myself. The image of Edward sitting on a cute little pony, appeared in my mind. When it transferred into Edward as a knight in shining armour on a real horse, I knew I definitely had to focus again.

Of course, James wasn't sorry at all about saying that. I bet he'd love to describe Edward with a lot worse terms if possible. Sometimes, I loved to do that, too. But here, in this moment, I felt rather defensive of myself and of Edward as well. There was definitely no need on my part to enlarge upon this topic any further.

"I'm writing my article more as an obituary for Claire. I don't want to mess with police investigations by writing about the murder itself right now."

_And I really didn't want to mess with Edward's attempt to prove his innocence. _

"You've talked to the police?" James asked with a blank face.

"Sure. You had to go and confirm your statement too, right?"

He nodded and then the waiter was back with our order. I ate a piece of the cake, which tasted okay, and took a sip of the really, really good coffee. James gazed at me the whole time, making me feel more and more awkward. I tried to distract him, and mostly myself, by asking him more questions about Claire. I learned nothing much, since their relation was rather superficial by what he told me, but she was really hard-working, a nice person and a great colleague. She'd worked at Gateshead for nearly four years, and with every word James said, she turned more and more into some kind of saint.

And of course with every word, Edward also turned more and more into the bad guy. When James had told Jacob and me this for the first time, he'd said Edward had a thing for Claire. Now it sounded like he was some kind of creepy stalker, ambushing Claire, trying to possess her.

I had enough of it and guessed that I already got everything that James was willing to tell me. Maybe my plan to talk to him once more didn't work out so great. I put my notes away and got my wallet out of my bag, which was lying on the empty chair next to me. I turned to signal the waiter that I wanted to pay and as I spun around again, James stretched out his hand, reaching for a strand of my hair, twisting it with his fingers.

_Stop touching me! _

"You know, you really should go to dinner with me."

The only one I was picturing myself on a date with was - and I was still confused with that fact - Edward._ Not James. _I sure as hell did not need to be closer to James. I wanted to be as far away as possible from wherever he and his hands were. To get me and my hair away from him, I leaned back and since the waiter was nowhere in sight, I just pulled out a note and put it on the table.

"Sorry, I'm just really busy right now. I have to go." I grabbed my wallet and tried not to run too obviously from the terrace. Once around the corner and out of sight, I took a deep breath and collected myself before I headed back to my car. I had parked it around the corner of Close Road, because as usual, I couldn't find an adequate parking space directly at the Café. I was about to get my keys out of my bag when I realised that there was no bag.

_I was so screwed!_

I had left my bag at the Café.

I walked back to the Café, careful not to run into James on the way. Thankfully, he was gone by the time I got there, but so was my bag. All my notes were in that bag, and if James took it -- I frowned at the thought.

"Excuse me Miss!" someone shouted from the bar. It was the waiter from earlier, waving with my bag in his hands.

_Thank God! _

I hurried towards him, thanked him and immediately opened the bag, looking for my keys and just checking, in general, for things. It was all still there: notes, mobile, chewing gum, random rubbish, but no keys. I told the guy that my keys were missing, but he just shrugged and told me he had picked the bag up from the chair, not opening it.

_Would James...?_

No, I told myself. If he had noticed my bag, he would have taken the whole thing to approach me once more for sure. I got back to the table and looked on the ground, hoping I had maybe just dropped the keys. But I found nothing. _Shit. _

Could I have lost my car keys? The last time I was sure I still had them was when I locked my car earlier getting here. So they had to be somewhere between my car and here, right? _Right._ Just in case they might find anything, I left my number at the Café and traced my way back to my car, eyes glued to the floor.

I was getting depressed – if I didn't find the key, I'd have to get the spare key, which was of course at my apartment, to which I, of course, no longer had a key to because all my keys were on the same bunch. My dad was the only one with a replacement key to my apartment, so I would have to call him and let him get it. I was just figuring out how I would explain this to him when I realised something and came to a dead stop instantly.

My car was gone.

_My_ car was _gone!!!_

A perfectly empty parking space was now where my car had been before. I jogged up and down the street to make sure I hadn't mistaken this. But still, my car was gone.

First I lose my keys, and then my car gets stolen?

_Am I one damn lucky woman, or what?_

I sank to the curbside, defeated. There were a lot of nice cars parked in the street. The thief must have been really, really dumb to take my old piece-of-shit car. After a few moments of wallowing in self-pity, I got back on my feet and headed for the police headquarters.

The sun was still beaming from the sky, but I couldn't find anything beautiful in it anymore. And then, a few minutes later, my phone rang.

* * *

_**chapter end notes:**_

We don't know if there's an actual Bridge Café in Newcastle, but you have to love the riverside shining in the sun.

The high horse that is in fact a pony is a great quote from Frightened Rabbit.


	12. Hotel Chelsea Nights Pt 1

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns it all, Bob owns us and we own the fireworks in our hearts.

Thanks to Bri and thanks to all you reviewers!

Bang, bang, bang.

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Hotel Chelsea Nights Pt. 1**

_I fell like getting rid of all my things_

_Maybe just disappear into the fog_

_The traffic roars, my stomach screams_

_Like a gang of angry dogs_

_And I'm tired of living here in this hotel_

_(Ryan Adams – Hotel Chelsea Nights)_

_

* * *

_**Edward Cullen**_  
_

I stood in front of one of the shabbiest hotels in town. Well, it wasn't exactly _in_ town, but about half an hour outside of it. I thought it might be a good idea to put a little physical distance between myself and the police station. Apart from that, I was pretty sure the people here wouldn't ask for any ID.

I had put a woollen hat over my head and even tried to smooth out the wrinkles in my jacket just for good measure. My eyes felt heavy from the lack of sleep and I was in serious need of a hot shower, or any shower at all. The car was parked a few blocks down to avoid any unneeded attention. Driving around with it had been a risk already and I had to think about some alternatives soon, if I wanted to drive somewhere in the near future. The mistake with my mobile phone had been bad enough already. But for now it had to work. I was lucky the Volvo wasn't that extraordinary in its appearance.

I entered the Hotel Chelsea, which was probably named after the famous one in New York, crossing a worn down red carpet and walked towards the unoccupied reception. I leaned casually against the desk and rang the brazen bell to make my presence known. My motto was simple enough: Be cool, don't attract attention.

A young woman appeared in front of a colourful curtain behind the reception area, her words of greeting slurred with her open-mouthed gum-chewing.

As anticipated she didn't ask for a passport, credit card or any other ID after I requested a room for three nights and shoved a few notes in her direction. She looked a little confused when I told her that I came alone and wanted the room for more than a couple of hours, but she didn't ask any further. In a few short sentences she told me where to find my room, handed me the key and directed me towards the stairs.

Since the hotel wasn't that big, it was easy enough to find the door with the right number on it. I put the lightly rusted key into the lock and rattled on it until the door eventually opened. Crossing the threshold, I did a quick inventory of the small room and let the keys drop onto the only cupboard, which stood across from the queen-sized bed. Of course it was only sparely furnished, dark red curtains tainting the room into dreary light.

The feather bed looked welcoming, but as I sat down on the end of it, it sank down way more than it should, the mattress sagging and wobbling with every movement. I carefully inspected the sheets and they seemed clean enough at least. I couldn't spot any obvious holes either.

I checked the windowless bathroom next and instantly decided that it was just good enough to take a quick shower. The water got warm quickly since showers are an important part of these kind of hotels.

After finishing I dried myself off with one of the impressive fresh towels, put on my former clothes due to lack of alternatives and flopped myself down on the too squashy bed.

It was time to form a mental plan.

Ordered new passport - Check.

Found a place to hide for the next couple of days - Check.

Missing Bella in an already oddly familiar obsession - Check.

Still on the to do list:

Call Esme.

Get some clothes.

Find a new vehicle to drive around.

All of these tasks seemed a little impossible or obnoxious, given the circumstances, but they needed to be done anyway. I stood up to get my new mobile out of my jacket, hoping that this line was not only safe from the police, but also from the criminal guys.

Glad that I had already transferred all my numbers, or at least the important ones, to the new phone, I called Esme and after a few rings she picked up, a stressed note in her voice.

"Edward, is that really you?" she cried after hearing my voice. "This isn't your number. Where are you, when are you coming back?"

Before we could talk properly I had to convince her again and again that I was alright and that she shouldn't worry so much. It physically pained me to be the one who was responsible for her constant anxiety. She had had enough of that in her life already.

I didn't tell her my concrete plans to travel of course. I saw no need to make her an innocent confidant. The fact that police cruisers were apparently patrolling her house, looking for me, was bad enough as it was. Did they consider me stupid enough to visit my mother now? Well, I had to admit, I was at least stupid enough to stay in town and drive around with my own bloody car. _Way to go, Edward! _

But it was a tricky situation. A new car was out of the question. Cars of friends or family as well. The cops would look after those too, after they eventually discovered my unoccupied car that was parked somewhere in town. I opted to take the bus or a taxi if necessary for the next few days. With sunglasses and a hat hopefully nobody would recognize me. And I wasn't about to go out a lot until Monday anyway.

I firmly told Esme not to call me unless it was something life-threatening and I didn't even consider to give her my new secure number. My goal was to keep her out of this as much as possible. In theory the same applied to Bella, but due to selfishness and stupidity on my part I had visited her and kissed her and made a fool out of myself.

I ended the call with Esme and stood up to slide the curtains to the side to let some light into the bleak room. An inner sadness filled my body. Just early this morning I had watched my Bella standing at her window, looking tired and beautiful. There was this irrational pull again, no holding back of any extent when it came to her. I turned and almost sprinted back to my bed, grabbed my new mobile and pushed the required buttons to get her on the line. It rang instantly and while it did I thought about what I could possibly say to her. Maybe I would just call and hang up as soon as I heard her say something. Or I could be brave and apologise for kissing her, which would be such a lie, because I wasn't sorry at all.

Of course I wasn't brave enough and hung up before she even answered the damn phone.

I more or less collapsed backwards onto the bed and the traffic noise from the street in front of my window roared through the small room. There was nothing left to do for me but wait. Wait for my passport to get finished, wait until I was proven innocent and most of all - wait until I would see Bella again. I had no idea, why she was constantly present in my mind. Not so long ago I made it my goal to not get attached to people this fast and this intense. It is too risky for both sides and you would only get hurt in the end. I have seen it first hand with my mother and my father. But this kiss, this simple kiss, was probably worth all the hurt in the world together. And I only just realised it: this was worth everything and it scared the shit out of me.

The traffic noise was unnerving. The walls were thin, the windows apparently not sound-absorbent in the slightest, but exhaustion got the best of me soon after my little epiphany. I fell in a deep sleep above the sheets in my jeans and shirt without any dreams at all. What was there to dream about anyway? I got it all in real life. The best things and the worst things, all in a couple of days. And that night, there was no one who tucked me under a blanket, which was warm and comfortable and smelled like flowers.

The next morning I felt disgusted with myself. I needed new clothes, there was no way around this. It was too risky to get some from my apartment though. If they were patrolling Esme's house they would definitely watch my apartment as well.

I took another fast shower, towel-dried my hair and put on my old smelly clothes again. Well, they didn't really smell, I guess, but they very well could. I put the woollen hat on my still damp hair, grabbed my new phone, my jacket and the keys and left the room.

As I walked across the hallway to the stairs, the door to the room next to mine sprung open and a couple stumbled out. She was giggling while he was kissing her, having his hands all over her body. They took the stairs before me, completely unaware of my presence and discussed their next 'meeting', which should take place as soon as she was able to sneak out of her husbands house again. Call me old-fashioned or conservative, but this was just disgusting. If I was going to hell, these people and probably all of the occupants of the hotel, would go right with me. Unfortunately this thought didn't make me feel any better.

At the reception the young woman was once again chewing gum open-mouthed and when I asked her for any advice about how I could get into town without a car, she just handed me a bus timetable and the business card of a taxi-company without saying anything at all. _What a nice and friendly lady. _

I unsuccessfully tried to understand the bus schedule and finally decided it would be way easier to just take a taxi. Calling the number on the card, my eyes fell on the racks beside the reception. It was funny that this hotel sold postcards, but they were there nonetheless. My attention however was held by the rack of sunglasses right next to it. I needed one of those!

The taxi-driver promised to be here in about ten minutes and I approached the nice lady behind the reception again, who was now painting her fingernails. She sold me one of the overpriced sunglasses and I was good to go.

The taxi was just coming to a standstill when I exited the hotel. It was one of those nice and sunny spring days and I was glad my sunglasses wouldn't look too stupid during this kind of weather.

I was tempted to tell the taxi-driver to drive by Bella's apartment before he brought me to town, but decided against it. The police would be waiting around there as well and it probably was a little creepy on my part to even think about it.

I got out of the taxi at the central station and made my way down to the Tyne river, where I knew I could find a few second hand shops and other small clothes-shops. I wasn't a big fan of shopping. My suits where just delivered to my house from time to time. They measured my size once and because my body didn't really change that much over the last few years, they still made my suits in that size and they fit. For other clothes there was Alice. She was really into the fashion thing and Jasper had to be the best dressed guy in town. And since he basically had everything, she bought me stuff as well. It was what made Alice a happy girl and I couldn't bring myself to ruin her fun.

Not really caring for fashion, I went through a few shops unnoticed, grabbed some shirts, a couple of jeans, socks and underwear off the racks and considered myself finally done, when I suddenly saw _her_ exiting a car. All of my movements came to a full stop. My beautiful Bella.

I was still in one of the shops, grabbing all the full bags filled with clothes I bought, to bring them outside, when I saw her through the shop-window. My heart ached furiously. I wanted nothing more than to burst through the doors, run over to her and sweep her up into my arms, give her a hug, lavish her with kisses all over her rosy cheeks and her delicate neck, those full and sweet lips and a last one on her forehead to tell her how much she meant to me.

But that probably wasn't something she would've liked. She nervously looked around as if she was afraid of something or someone. A horrible thought crossed my mind.

She was afraid of _me_.

Maybe I had gained her trust for a short amount of time, but then I kissed her in such an ungentlemanly way and left, like the fucking prick I am. I took advantage of her trust and now she sided with the police and was afraid of me.

I left the little shop and followed her down the street, carrying four bags of clothes, which suddenly didn't seem as necessary anymore. I kept in the shadows on the other side of the road, not sure what to do. The sight of her made me so incredibly happy but at the same time it made me angry at myself. But I couldn't just leave her alone now and even less I could go over and say hello like the good old friend I wasn't. But if I wasn't able to touch her, I could at least watch her for a few more moments from afar.

The sun enlightened her brown hair and I discovered a few natural red strands, which gave it a colourful shade. She fumbled with her bag then, stumbled a little and I was glad she didn't fall, because per reflex I would be about to speed up and try to catch her, if she did. Eventually she got some sunglasses out of her bag and put them gracefully on her nose. And when she turned her head to look nervously around again, I got a better look at her face. A little plaster was on her forehead and I felt my fists clench around the handles of the shopping bags. Who the hell did this to her? She wasn't hurt when I left her the other day. How bad was it? Did she hurt a lot? And why the hell did I feel so protective of her? I tried to get a better look at her, but she turned back around and most of it was hidden behind the overly huge sunglasses anyway.

Eventually she came to a sudden stop and I was too afraid I'd be discovered in my creepy stalking, so I stepped to my right and was instantly blocked from view by a hedge nearly as high as me.

I was so screwed.

Now I was not only hiding from the police, but also from my Bella, who I was simultaneously stalking with a bunch of shopping bags in my hands. It couldn't get any worse.

But it did.

I saw her entering the Café and watched as she sat down on the outdoor-terrace right in my line of sight, when suddenly a small black kitten came bowing and scraping around my legs. It purred and looked up at me with big black eyes and began scratching at my bags.

"Shhh, go away," I whispered, shaking the bags a bit. "There's no food inside."

Of course the cat didn't understand and kept on with it's scratching. I tried to lift the bags far enough and out of reach for the kitten, but it just tried to climb up at me and clutched it's claws into my jeans. More out of surprise then out of pain, I stumbled a bit, dropped two of the bags on the ground and startled by the sudden movements, the kitten jumped, squeaking through the thick hedge onto the terrace. I quickly glanced over to Bella, who was watching the cat through her sunglasses.

The cat, not me, which was good.

I was so ashamed by then for hiding like a stalker behind the bushes that I began to genuinely rethink my decision to not just go over to her, when every alarm in my head went off. James Barth was standing behind Bella. He was just standing there, ogling her like she was a priced possession which he was about to win. I wondered briefly if I was looking at her the same way, but I sure hoped I wasn't. It was time to interfere. I bent down to collect all my belongings, which had fallen out of one of the bags when I had dropped it earlier, and was about to step out onto the street again to enter the Café and save her from the lunatic, when I barely heard her answer to the worst pick-up line I've ever heard in my existence.

"I appreciate that you could make it today," she said and the blood was boiling in my veins. She had a date with him? My Bella was happy to see the stupid accountant guy and possible murderer?

I quickly looked up from my bags on the ground to see their interaction, but the sunglasses on her face didn't allow me to analyse her expression. Was she happy or sad, disgusted or scared? I just couldn't tell. People were so easy to read most of the time, but she was a complete mystery.

They spoke silently after that and I couldn't understand every word they were saying, but at least that lunatic stopped touching her shoulder, when he sat down across from her. His eyes were narrow and calculating all the time, although he obviously tried to keep it light in front of her. Why had I never realised his attitude before?

He was smiling one of his toothy smiles and I could definitely sense Bella's discomfort by then. I interpreted the twitch in the corners of her mouth as a definite sign of annoyance. The waiter approached them and I was still contemplating what to do now. If I went back out onto the street, it was for sure that Bella or at least James would see me and that would be the worst outcome of this whole mess. So I stayed. Hidden behind the bushes, tortured by the scene playing out in front of me.

Bella ordered some sort of pie and despite the weird situation I was happy to find out another little thing about her; as small as it might be. She liked pie.

When she got some notebook out of her bag, my nerves were calmed a little bit. This was an official meeting. Not a date, but an interview of some sorts. Of course, the anger in me didn't go away completely. Why would she agree to meet him? I had told her there was something wrong with him. But then again, she was just being stubborn and about to find that out of her own. This was in public. He wouldn't harm her here, would he? I didn't like the meeting anyway. Not at all. Who knew what was going on in the messed up brain of James?

I was dying to know exactly what they were talking about, but there were only bits and pieces of their dialogue getting through to me. The essence seemed to be that James accused me of pretty much everything. The worst part was when he made me look like a creepy stalker, which was exactly what I was, although he couldn't know that. For a second I was wondering, if he had discovered me behind the hedge, but that couldn't be.

James made me sick.

I made myself sick.

Finally, Bella reached for her wallet and gestured for the waiter to come over. He didn't seem to notice her and I fought the urge to push him in her direction to end this afternoon already. But then James reached over to my Bella, touching her brown curls with his filthy fingers and I felt rage rushing through me. _I was just gonna hit him before, but I'm gonna kill him now! _Involuntarily I stepped forward, about to lose my mind by the sight in front of me. The cracks of wood woke me from my rage-filled moment. I had already reached for the small branches of the hedge to fight my way through the thick shrubs and accidentally cracked a few of them in my fist without noticing. James made me angrier than I've ever been before in my life. As if his constant ogling wasn't enough.

Her nose wrinkled slightly in disgust and it was palpable how uncomfortable she was. The need to burst onto the terrace and block her from the danger in front of her was nearly overwhelming but I couldn't ruin this. I couldn't risk her noticing me. It would only confirm James' accusations! That was what he wanted and I wouldn't do him that favour!

So I stayed behind the bushes, trying to calm myself.

Bella stood then and rushed out of the Café, leaving a smirking James behind. I couldn't understand why I had never seen how truly creepy James was before. He was gesturing to one of the waitresses and one young girl finally came over to his table to bring the bill. Bella was already out of sight, but I still couldn't leave my hiding place without being exposed to James. Stuck behind the damn hedge I had to witness James flirting with the all too willing waitress. She even gave him her number by the end of their talk and after James got a good look at her back as well, he finally left the Café. I looked around to see if I had gathered all my clothes and was about to leave, when I saw Bella's purse opened wide on one of the chairs at the table she had just sat at.

Bella was gone, James was gone, I was still there. I couldn't just let her purse be there for every possible thief to see, right? All her notes, money, papers and other important things were inside. I stepped out onto the pavement again, trying to look innocent in front of other passers-by. Then I went to the front entrance of the Café and stepped out onto the terrace, heading straight for the table Bella had sat at. Grabbing the open purse, my gaze fell inside immediately.

Keys. Car-keys to be exact. I had just found a solution to one of my problems. Without much thought, I took the keys and closed the bag, laid it back onto the chair, but rearranged it a bit, so that one of the waiters would see it soon enough to pick it up.

I knew it wouldn't take long for her to come back once she realised her keys were missing, so I hurried, bought myself some coffee to-go so no one in the Café would get suspicious and went behind my familiar hedge again, just to wait for her to come back and get her purse and to look out for the bag, so it wouldn't get stolen by someone in between.

The waiter collected the bag after a few minutes and then her flushed face reappeared on the terrace. She looked frantically for her bag until the waiter came to give it to her. She was so relieved when she found it was still there, but I couldn't wait any longer. As soon as she talked to the waiter to thank him and began to look through the things in her bag, I jogged back to where I saw her parking her car through the shop window earlier. It was the rustiest, smallest and overall ugliest car I've ever driven, but who was I to judge. I was getting myself deeper into this shit than I ever thought possible. I faked an ID and now I borrowed a car without the owner knowing. All in two days. And I borrow-stole it from Bella of all people. God, I was such a prick. I drove three blocks down and finally parked somewhere to call a cab for her. That's the least I could do.

After that I dialled her number. I had to stop being such a coward and face the things I had done wrong at last.

* * *

**chapter end notes:**

What's on your to-do list?


	13. If I Am A Stranger

**Disclaimer:** Stephenie Meyer is the mastermind behind all this.

_And you can tell Rolling Stone Magazine that our last words were:_ We love our amazing beta Bri!! :)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it means a lot.

* * *

**If I Am A Stranger**

_Today is yesterday when you don't know  
How to rebuild the walls that someone has knocked down  
(Ryan Adams -If I Am A Stranger)_

_

* * *

_**Bella Swan**_  
_

"Hello?" I snapped into my mobile, not wanting to talk to anyone right now. No one answered. Silence filled the line, except for the faint sound of someone breathing. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it wasn't the creepy kind of stillness. It was familiar and peaceful in a way - thus I knew who was calling.

"Edward?" I whispered, breaking the silence. It was quiet again, even the soft breathing seemed to be gone.

"Edward, are you okay?"

_What if he got into an accident and was wounded and the last thing he could do was to call me, but he had no strength left to talk and he needed..._

"Yes, Bella, I'm okay," he finally answered in a stressed tone, interrupting my mind going wild. The sound of his voice reminded me to breath again.

"Good," I replied automatically. I inhaled some fresh air and waited for him to continue. I was shouting a million silent questions his way, like, where are you, are you really okay, why did you kiss me - and most important - why did you leave me afterwards?

Don't they say "silence is golden"? Well this wasn't golden. It was heavy, thick and intense. So much, that after a few moments, I couldn't stand it any more. In an attempt to release the tension, I put my mobile down and took notice of the outside world, which was surprisingly still present. Though there weren't many pedestrians walking the pavement, I stepped aside and steadied myself against a store-front. With my luck, the facts of me walking headless combined with talking to Edward would cause a visit to the hospital. I took another deep breath, muttered a quick _ah fuck this _to myself, put the earpiece back up and spoke:

"Why are you calling, Edward?"

"Um, yeah, about that," he hesitated, and I could picture him right now, running his fingers through that gorgeous hair of his, maybe at the same time pacing up and down. I couldn't help the smile spreading across my face.

"About what, Edward?" I tried to encourage him to talk some more, still that sweet smile in my voice. Speaking to him made my bad day so much better. Since I had just spent some very nasty minutes with James Barth, Edward's failures didn't seem to bother me as much as they usually did.

I heard him breathe deeply and then he spoke so fast, it was hard for me to keep up.

"Bella, I need you to not get mad about something, okay, promise?"

"What? I, I don't...," know what you're talking about, I wanted to say, but he didn't really wait for any answer and just kept going.

"I called you a taxi." Now_he_ waited for me to say something.

"Like, right away? Well I'm sorry, I'm not at home right now."

_Silence, here we come again._ This didn't make any sense to me. There had to be something else he didn't tell.

"And why should I get mad about that?" I asked.

"I, well, sort of, borrowed your car, Bella." His tone was careful and silent. Maybe my ears were defective.

_What?_

"What do you mean, you borrowed my car? My car got...," _t__hen_ I got it, "oh,...stolen," I finished my sentence, the puzzle pieces slowly forming a picture in my mind. Edward took my car?

"You took my car?"

"I'm sorry," was his simple reply. _Seriously? _As if a simple I'm _sorry_ would do any good here. You are _sorry_ when you arrive five minutes late, you're _sorry _when you accidentally bump into someone in a supermarket, you're sorry if you've used up all the remaining coffee in the office. You're not sorry when you kidnap someone's car. I snorted and pushed away from the wall. I couldn't believe this was happening.

"You took my car???" I repeated, shouting and with my free hand gesturing furiously in the air. "What the fuck, Edward? Give it back! You don't go and take people's cars like that. I thought you weren't criminal, how did you even get it running? Wait, _YOU_ took the keys? You were at the Café??" This kept getting worse.

"Exactly! I was. And you know what I saw? You already hurt your head and now you're hanging out with the Barth creep. Are you insane? He's dangerous. You need to keep away from him! Don't do anything stupid Bella!"

I clenched my jaw so thight that I could hardly spit out words. "Don't do anything stupid Bella??" I echoed him, my voice tight as I still barely opened my mouth. "Are you serious? How dare you call me stupid after you stole my car!"

"I didn't technically steal it, I had the keys."

"Well! You stole the keys!!!"

"I found them."

"Fuck you, Edward. You know, you could've asked!" With that I slammed the phone shut.

My temples were pounding like all the blood was making its way up to my head, getting ready for the big explosion. Was it anatomically possible for steam to come out of one's ears? I think the world would know in a few seconds....

Right then my mobile rang again. There was no number displayed but I didn't need that to figure out who was calling. I pressed one fist against my head and stopped the unbearable ringing by answering the call.

"I'm so not talking to you right now."

"Then just listen, please Bella." I wanted to hang up really badly, but couldn't bring myself to do it. And so I just stood there, one fist pressed against my temple and the other one clasping the phone hard enough that it hurt.

"I'm really sorry for any inconvenience I'm causing you. But I needed an unsuspicious vehicle. And as you said yourself before, I'm not criminal. I hope you can forgive me." _Inconvenience? _I almost laughed at his choice of words. Only Edward would call stealing your car an inconvenience. I could see that he needed another car, but still, there were other ways than what he had done. Take, for example – asking me first.

"When I get back, I promise I will make it up to you." My fist loosened itself and came to a rest on my chest. Get back? Where was he going?

I tried to sound nonchalant. "Get back from where exactly?"

"I'll be out of town for as long as it takes, so I need you to watch out for yourself. Do not get anywhere near James, do you understand me? Bella, please promise me that you will be safe." I rolled my eyes.

"I can handle myself very well, thanks," I said sarcastically. "Where are you going Edward?"

"Can't you just let it go?"

_Let me think and consider all the options.... _

_No. _

"Edward, if you ever want to talk to me again, you better tell me where you're going."

"You know I'd rather not, because I've already drawn you far too much into this. But I guess I owe you." _Sure as hell, you do. _"I'm going to track down Fagur Alit."

I got a feeling of deja-vu, didn't we already try that the other night?

"How?"

"I'm starting with going to Iceland."

"Iceland?" I whispered, having a thousand thoughts at the same time. With all the anger boiling inside of me, I could only articulate one: "You're not taking my car, are you?"

He sighed. "Ah, Bella, I wish things were different. Be careful, be safe." I couldn't believe he was telling me _that _again. How could he ever tell me to be safe, when all the commotion in my life was _his_ fault?

"Yeah, I've heard that one before. You can drop the act. Just keep on running away, Edward!" And then I hung up and turned my phone off.

Smashing it onto the pavement in thousand pieces would have been more satisfying but the phone was completely innocent. After all it was Edward, Edward alone who was messing things up. Things like my life, his life, his business, … let's make it simple and sum it up by saying _everything_.

A taxi drove by and I hailed it. Maybe it was the one Edward had called, but I didn't really care. The comforts of getting home fast were far more tempting than being stubborn right now. I mumbled the address to the driver and leaned back in the soft leather. As the town flew by the window, I stared outside and still couldn't calm myself. The anger was fading slightly, but it only got worse after that.

I was bitterly disappointed. Somehow I had trusted Edward with the murder and all, but he clearly didn't trust me enough to ask for my help. Or – and far worse - he didn't respect me or my belongings at all. Was this some kind of joke to him?

I sighed.

No knight in shining armour after all.

On Monday morning lights were turned on, computers were started and weekend chatter was exchanged everywhere. Office hours were finally here, and I wasn't sitting by myself in the dark anymore. I tapped my fingers on the desk. Ben had just entered his office. I'd let him get some coffee first; he was grumpy without caffeine.

My heartbeat was already exploding with the four cups of coffee I had since I got here a few hours ago. I just sat here and waited for everyone to arrive, because I couldn't stand being in my apartment any longer. I had spent the whole weekend there, reconsidering my feelings towards Edward. My thoughts were an infinite loop:

The guy stole my car and keeps running away all the time. What hurt the most is that he didn't ask for my help, he just took what he needed. Obviously he didn't trust me enough, or simply didn't care at all, besides telling me to be safe all the time. Seriously, all those mixed signals were killing me. The head got it all figured out, but somehow the heart didn't get the memo.

I missed him.

Yes, I was _that_ dumb.

I hated being dumb, so no more of that. I had to rebuild the walls Edward had knocked down. I would focus on my job and put my personal life aside. Recently I'd let Edward into it – and what good did it bring? Nothing but chaos. From now on, Edward Cullen wasn't anything to me except front page news.

Ben had handed me the assignment for the Gateshead murder because he expected me to make something out of it. The death of Claire McNamara and the involvement of Edward Cullen were the event of the decade in Newcastle. It was now or never to mark our spot within the town's newspapers.

That was also something I had considered during the weekend. I knew just exactly how I could turn the whole Gateshead thing into a spectacular article; but I wasn't sure if it was really the right thing to do. Edward was innocent, but the police didn't seem to be investigating in many directions. He told me he wanted to prove his innocence by going to Iceland and seriously isn't that just exactly the stuff they write about in Hollywood? Our readers would love it, I was sure.

But of course, there were risks. What if Edward isn't able to prove anything? What if I can't find him in Iceland? What if I _do find him_? Should I tell the police anything? Do I lie to Charlie?

I simply had to believe in Edward's abilities to find the truth. Since I knew about all the clues he had, it wasn't impossible to find him there. But I really shouldn't get involved; I was a journalist, I observed things. He wouldn't even know that I'm there. The decision about the police was fairly easy; I couldn't tell them anything without doing harm to Edward. Did that mean that I committed a crime? I wasn't sure, but that was exactly why I couldn't tell Charlie the true reasons for my trip to Iceland. Officially, I will go on holidays.

I saw Ben returning to his office with a cup in his hand. It was time to find the courage to suggest my Icelandic adventure. It was highly risky.

As far as I knew, Newcastle Weekly had almost never let any of their journalists go abroad for an article. Therefore, by all means, my arguments needed to be very good. I went through the chain of reasoning in my head once more, making sure I hadn't forgotten anything. Time for the fearless reporter Bella Swan to win over the editor in chief for _the_ story of the year.

I entered his office, probably looking as determined as I was, because Ben immediately asked. "Oh, what's up Bella?"

"Did you read the notes I gave you about the Gateshead murder the other day?"

He nodded attentive, taking a sip of his coffee.

"You know my instincts, Ben. I'm telling you, the engagement is fake, someone is manipulating the investigations. Plus there's a lot of money missing in the firm. What does that tell you? It's definitely not as simple as it looks! Edward Cullen didn't do it, that's why he's missing. He is trying to prove his innocence, to stay out of prison, to save his company, the honour of his family, basically everything he has."

Ben looked at me, wide-eyed. I knew I had his full attention.

"I promise you, we are absolutely exclusive on this. Everybody else already pretty much presented the suspect as the murderer. And the best part? I know where the innocent suspect is. We'll follow his path to solving the crime on his own. Our readers will go nuts for it. This is big, like really, really huge."

He sat up on the chair, finally taking his feet of the desk, attempting to look bossy and intimidating. "You're insane."

And then a smile crept onto his face. "But I'm all for insane in that case."

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	14. Hotel Chelsea Nights Pt 2

We all know that Bri is the best Beta, Twilight isn't ours and you guys are the best! Thank you all!

* * *

_I feel like getting rid of all my things_

_Maybe just disappear into the fog_

_The traffic roars, my stomach screams_

_Like a gang of angry dogs_

_And I'm tired of living here in this hotel_

_(Ryan Adams – Hotel Chelsea Nights)_

_

* * *

_**Edward Cullen**_  
_

Sweat was glistering on my forehead and my heart was beating frantically when I turned into a parking spot in front of the hotel. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. Her last words and the horrible beeping sounds of the line going dead were constantly repeating themselves in my mind. No 'see you soon' or 'goodbye' at all.

There was nothing left I could've said to make things better, but I would have tried if given the chance nonetheless.

I inhaled deeply, breathing in Bella's scent, which lingered all around me in her car. The smell was peaceful and calming, even after she had yelled furiously at me earlier. Her harsh words hung in the air without any prospect that she would take them back someday. The only insight I had left was, that she was as passionate in her anger as she was in, well, other things, and any reminder of _that_ made my heart ache even more.

I sat in her car in front of the hotel for at least an hour, before I finally forced myself to go inside. The shabby car was the closest I could be to my Bella and I took what I could get when it came to her. Now more than ever, as she wasn't even talking to me anymore.

Carefully trying to avoid looking through her more personal things - because she was already mad enough at me - I didn't open the glove compartment, but instead found a light blue scarf on the back-seat, which I took with me. I knew, I was a pathetic sight, but I just couldn't resist taking a part of her with me.

I stalked up the stairs, bags full of clothes and her scarf in hands, opened the door to my room and let myself and the bags fall onto the bed immediately. I would not stand up until Jason or one of his guys would call, which meant in consequence, that I had time. Much more time to think than I liked.

So I just lay there for an unmentionable amount of time. Thinking.

Bella had been right. Again. I was running away from this whole mess. From prison, from Jacob Black and worst of all: from Bella herself. I did it after I had kissed her and now I had done it again. Stealing her car - _what a great move, Cullen_. I could have asked her or called a damn taxi for myself and just take the risk of getting caught. Everything would have been better than hearing her distressed words on the phone. How had I forgotten that the most important thing was that Bella was alright. I was being selfish and now she didn't sound alright at all.

After an hour or whatever amount of time might have passed, I finally tried to push the guilt-cloud away and move on already. I couldn't undo my actions now. And truth be told, what was the big deal anyway? The iPod I left with her was probably worth a lot more than that excuse of a car she drove. And I would let her steal my car any time of the day. She could have everything I owned and more. After all this mess I would buy her a new car. A nice red one, not too big though. A car that would fit her personality. Beautiful and fragile, but safe and comfortable. Or I could pay her taxi bills, rent a chauffeur if she wanted one, which I seriously doubted.

Time went by eventually and the sun was setting again while I stayed true to my word and didn't move from my spot on the bed at all. But now I had to, because my stomach was growling and I was in desperate need of something to put inside of it.

I pushed myself up from the bed, found my way down to the lobby and spotted one of those food-machines in a corner. I put some coins inside and got myself a can of salted peanuts. Very healthy, lots of proteins. You can't go wrong with peanuts. I had enough coins left for a bottle of water as well, and returned to my room without coming across other inhabitants of the hotel, which I was grateful for.

While I occupied myself with throwing peanuts above my head and catching them with my mouth, the night approached fast. I hummed a few tunes aloud and tried to sing myself to sleep, but that turned out to be not such a great idea. Every melody that haunted my mind sounded hopeless and desperate, or furious and aggravated, while my fingers itched to play them on a piano and make my thoughts somehow real. I got only more tense with my inner composing, so I stopped it again.

The alternative was to count the panels on the ceiling, which I had done only infinite times before. Boredom finally got the best of my consciousness and let me drift into another night of dreamless sleep.

When I awoke still dressed, lying in between the bags full of clothes, it was finally Sunday. With any luck at all Jason or one of his guys would approach me today with a new passport in hand. It was time to make arrangements for my flight so I wouldn't waste any more precious time when I would finally get the ID.

After a quick shower I rummaged through the bags on my bed and eventually got dressed in a plaid shirt and some jeans. The jeans were slipping over the floor because of their length, but it definitely could've been worse. It's not like I would attend some kind of fashion show anytime soon and it was very unlikely that I would be confronted by Alice today.

The nice lady at the reception was again not speaking to me when I asked her for the phone number of the airport. She handed me a phone book to look myself, while she was stupidly gawking at me the whole time.

Busying myself, with my nose close to the phone book, I tried to hide my face as good as possible. What if the police had already published some photos of me in the paper? Maybe I was already in the news. There weren't nearly as much murders as TV shows made us believe, so in reality this might be quite the big deal throughout the country.

With slightly sweaty fingers I hurried through the pages, finally found what I was looking for and saved the number into my mobile. Without so much as a second glance to the silent woman, I quickly returned to my room, closing the door carefully behind me.

I listened for any possible noises outside and got a little paranoid in the process. The last thing I needed was someone who had identified me, overhearing what I was about to do next. Well, that and the police showing up at my door the very next minute. I took a deep breath to calm down and dialled the number for the airport. They told me there was no direct flight to Reykjavik, but early Monday morning I could take the flight to Copenhagen and from there I could fly straight on to Iceland. That was as good as it was going to get, but as I asked her to reserve a seat for Anthony Masen, she refused, telling me without at least a credit card number she could do nothing for me.

But really, how many people were flying to Iceland in the middle of the week? I decided I would just try my luck on Monday morning at the airport.

I hung up and grabbed the half-empty tin of peanuts on the nightstand. Not in the mood for throwing and catching them any longer, they found their direct way into my mouth this time. I finished the can fast and to get rid of the salty taste I emptied the bottle of water as well.

And then I was bored. Even more so than before.

The only thing I would have liked to participate in, was calling Bella, but that was once again out of the question. As much as I would love to hear her voice, I wasn't ready for more yelling right now. So, this had to wait. A few days, maybe a week and then I would be back home, and do everything in my power to make it up to her. I would cherish her, fall to my knees and beg her to forgive me, if that was what it would take. But I couldn't fix it now. I needed to keep her out of this at all costs.

The consistent traffic noise was suddenly interrupted by my new phone ringing, beeping and vibrating, all pretty much at the same time. I really needed to download some mp3 to it. Those noises were terrible, nearly making my ears bleed.

"Hello?" I answered as quickly as I could to stop the high pitched sounds and because I was quite anxious about who might be calling.

"Edward? You are the worst best friend I ever had. Seriously, are you fucking insane? What the bloody hell is wrong with you? You told me you're going to Jason and then you just disappear for days. Your mobile is dead, you are never home. Your friends apparently mean nothing to you, do they? I worried about your sorry ass. I worried enough to call Jason and ask him what the hell he did to you!" Never before had I seen this side of Jasper. His normally calm and collected self was shouting and yelling at me furiously. If I didn't know I deserved all of his wrath, I would keep the phone at arm's lengths and away from my ears. When he was finished with his accusations, he took in a deep breath and good old calm Jasper was back. "God, I'm so glad you're okay. You are okay, aren't you? Can you please say something?"

I was at a loss for words. I really hadn't thought about him as soon as I was out of Jason's sight. There was my inner selfish bastard again.

"I'm eternally sorry Jasper. Really, I am. It's just.... I'm sorry, I don't even have an excuse. Yes I'm okay. As okay as an innocent murder suspect, who is a part-time car thief and passport falsifier can possibly be." I sighed. This wasn't getting any better when I said it out loud.

"You're still wallowing in self-pity Edward. You know that this is all your own.... wait a second. What about that car?"

"Don't ask!"

"Okay."

We were both silent again and this seemed to become a pattern of some sorts. Nobody knew what to say anymore. Not Bella, not Jasper and certainly not me. Besides I was anxious to hang up, because I expected Jason's call sometime soon. Apparently Jasper wasn't finished yet.

"So, you are alright?"

"Physically? Yes."

"Okay, so where are you and what are your plans now?" he asked sounding only mildly interested.

"I'm still in town." I hesitated. "Oh well, I already told Bella, so I might as well tell you. I'm going to Iceland tomorrow."

And when I thought this would be of interest to him, I was wrong.

"Who's Bella?" he demanded instead.

And that was quite a tricky question. A beautiful woman? A friend? My preferred future-wife to be? _God, where did that come from?_

"She's a journalist I met a few days ago."

"A bloody journalist? Seriously Edward, your mind's not right. We better hang up now. I can't have anything to do with this stuff anymore. It's one thing to act like a criminal and a whole other to tell the bloody press about it. I feel like I don't know you anymore. This is not about black and white films, wearing trench-coats and feeling all heroic about it, Edward. It's dangerous and you should stop it before you're digging your own grave."

"I know Jasper and I'm sorry. You and Alice be safe. Tell her I went shopping the other day. And don't worry. It's going to be fine."

"The nerve of you.... bye Edward."

And he hung up.

But before I could even lay the phone down, the vibrating, ringing and beeping started all over. I answered on the first ring and for once there was no yelling, but the rough and calm voice of Jason telling me how to proceed now.

"One of my guys is meeting you at the Angel Of The North around 10pm tonight. You know where that is?"

"Yes, I know."

"Very good, Pretty Boy. There won't be many people at that time of day and it's far enough out of town. At least when you can manage not being followed. If you're followed, or mess things up otherwise, the deal is over. Understood?"

"Absolutely. I will be there. Alone. Not-followed," I summarised, nodding my head in comprehension.

"I knew there was some intelligence left in you. Bring your mobile."

I confirmed that I would, but the line was already dead.

And then the silent roar of the traffic outside and the growling of my stomach were once again the only noises left. The unnerving boredom was back.

The minutes ticked by slowly, while I got up every half hour or so to stretch my legs, visit the bathroom and watch the rain outside as single raindrops ran down the window until they flowed together in a little puddle on the outer windowsill.

Around 8pm my patience was running out and the growing hunger wasn't bearable any longer. I gathered my things and was out the door and in Bella's car in mere seconds. I happily inhaled her scent, like I was some creepy predator, winding the trail of my prey. But it calmed my nerves and lessened the hunger, because every desire paled in comparison. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, which were easily making me sick, started the car and drove a few blocks down to buy myself something to eat at one of those drive-through fast food chains.

While driving further out of town, I reached over to the passenger seat, where I had placed the already cold chips and ate them hungrily. Rain was pouring down the wind-shield heavier now and Bella's wipers were rubbing noisily over the glass, leaving it full of ream nonetheless. It was a mystery how Bella could drive around in this thing. The rust and dirt were bearable, but this was unjustifiable, unsafe and nothing for my Bella.

I had to concentrate to see anything at all and was glad when I reached the highway, where not much traffic was in my way any longer. The rear-view mirror became my best friend throughout the ride. I couldn't risk being followed. The chances were slim, but they were there and this just had to work out perfectly.

I reached the Angel of the North much too early. The red monstrosity was standing proud as ever, wings outstretched. Sometimes it appeared inviting to me; like a welcome home greeting when I came back into town from the south. But not today. Today the red Angel loomed large above the land, casting long and dark shadows.

I kept sitting in the car in the middle of the muddy parking lot, chewing on the last chips, which were completely cold by then.

The hunger was minimised eventually, but the boredom was still there. Jasper had been right. No trench-coats, and no heroes were left in my life. Just a neverending boredom, spiced with sincere anxiety here and there.

To keep myself busy I looked around the area, which was nearly impossible, since the wipers were off and all the windows were fogging from the inside. I took a look at the old radio on the dashboard instead and pressed play on the cassette deck. There wasn't anything as important as the musical taste of someone. You can judge people on that alone. Well, at least I could.

Some beautiful classical music filled the car. Debussy followed by a couple of Sonatas from Beethoven, which fit perfectly to the dropping rain outside. Then the music switched to a tune, I imagined a trucker in Texas in the middle of a desert to listen to. A voice too full of smoke and whiskey, a beat too simple to be even mentioned and lyrics too obvious to even call them lyrics in the first place. I hated country music. I lived through it anyway, but then the music changed to loud basses, screaming and heavy guitars.

With one simple move I turned the radio off again. What kind of person was Bella? She was more difficult to read than anyone else. An enigma, even in her musical taste.

There was still about half an hour to go until my appointment, so I wiped away the fog from the glass with the sleeve of my shirt to get a better look on the outside world. And that's when I spotted _her_. Dark brown hair falling over her shoulders, a red umbrella towering over her head, her back to me. She walked up the hill, and followed the trail to the Angel of the North. She shouldn't be here. Not in the pouring rain, not now, not when Jason's guys were about to show up any minute. I snapped the doorhandle open and ran after her, without bothering to close the door. She was only strolling, kicking stones on her way and I was approaching her fast, calling her name in the process. But she didn't look up, the crackling noise of the rain on her umbrella probably muffled my calls.

"Bella," I called again. "You shouldn't be here. Go home, please!"

And then she turned and I was only a few feet away and stopped dead in my tracks. My heart fell at the sight of the woman in front of me. This wasn't Bella. This was some girl, frowning at me, her blue eyes confused and a little frightened.

"Who are you? My name's not Bella."

"No, apparently not. I'm... sorry. I just thought.... the umbrella, your... oh god, I'm a little paranoid and totally sorry," I rambled, running a hand through my hair in embarrassment. "I just confused you with someone else."

"You look disappointed. I'm sorry, I'm not the one you're looking for," she pitied me, the fright and confusion replaced with a curiosity I wasn't about to satisfy.

"No that's actually good. You're good. I'm sorry, I better get back into my car. You have a nice evening."

I turned and shuffled back to the car, my wet hair clinging onto my forehead.

The schizophrenic ways of my mind were about to cause an explosion in my heart. I wanted her to be as far away from this as possible and yet I was disappointed that it wasn't her. That I couldn't see her, touch her, talk to her, stand under the umbrella with her, forgetting about the cruelness of the world in our dry spot beneath our shield, which would keep the bad of the world away.

Or at least the rain.

I was soaked, the seat of the car was soaked and my feet slipped on the rubber-mat in the mud I brought inside with my shoes. If I thought it wasn't possible to make this car any shabbier, I thought wrong. And I couldn't care less.

The car's former scent was all gone. Bella was gone. Everything smelled like summer rain and wet leather and I didn't like it. I wanted Bella back. But Mr. Jagger said it best, you can't always get, what you want.

When the phone interrupted the monotonous thumps of the rain with its almost familiar vibrating, ringing, beeping thing again, I was anxious to get this over with as fast as humanly possible and leave for Iceland already.

But the phone wasn't entirely open yet when I already heard Alice' musical voice directed at me.

"Edward? Who is Bella? Tell me everything! Jasper didn't tell me and I know that there's something going on with you and this girl. He thinks you're stupid, but I know you aren't. Well most of the time you aren't. So how old is she? Is she pretty? When can I meet her? And why do you have a new phone number again? I haven't seen you for such a long time. We should meet up and play something again. Does Bella play an instrument, too? Or maybe she could sing?"

"Hey Alice. Bella is a journalist." I tried to keep my freshly awakened emotions to myself, but probably to no avail. "She's in her mid-twenties, I guess. Yes, very. Not anytime soon. Because I needed a new phone. I don't know and I guess she wouldn't want that. Alice, listen, I'm waiting for an important phone call and I'm sorry for being rude, but we need to hang up now."

"No, Mister, not before you tell me exactly how you feel about this Bella girl. I can tell you feel something towards her. You say she's pretty, huh?"

"Yeah well, she hates me, she loves to yell at me and yes she's incredibly beautiful."

"Oh, she sounds perfect for you, Edward." I could literally hear her clap her hands in appreciation and I stayed clueless how she managed that with a phone in one hand.

"It's not like _that_, Alice. What did Jasper tell you?"

"He didn't tell me anything. That's why I called you, silly. But now I know enough, I guess. Wait, one more thing. What's her full name?"

"Her name is Bella Swan. But Alice, don't you dare talk to her about..."

"Bella Swan as in Isabella Swan the journalist at _Newcastle Weekly_? Oh Edward, she's such a sweet girl. And I heard she's amazing in her job. I will definitely drop by their office tomorrow and introduce myself properly to her. I have met her a few times, but we never really talked. And now I have an excuse. This will be so much fun Edward. Jasper said you're going to leave the city for some time? When will you be back? We can go on double-dates or something. I'm so happy for you."

I groaned and not only inwardly. Her talking about dates and fun-times when I was sitting in a parking lot in the middle of nowhere waiting for my fake passport, running from the police was the last thing I needed.

"Alice! Stop this. Bella and I.... we don't even talk right now. You can't go and talk to her. She doesn't want anything to do with me and I certainly don't want you to have anything to do with her. Well, not until I have figured everything out on my own. So stop being so pushy all the time." I pinched the bridge of my nose, aggravated by the whole situation.

She was silent and I instantly knew my words had been too harsh. As tough as she seemed to be on the outside, sometimes she was just a sensitive girl on the inside.

"I just want you to be happy, Edward. After all you've been through," she whispered, her spirit almost gone.

"I know Alice, but Bella and I... it's complicated. And I don't want this any more messed up than it already is."

"This is about that murder you're accused of, right? Edward we all know you didn't do anything. I know there's something you're up to and since Jasper isn't telling me anything I know it's something illegal. But you know we'll stand behind you no matter what, right? Whatever Jasper told you, he still got your back when you need him." She said this with so much confidence and although I knew this in the depth of my heart, it was good to hear. Good to know I had friends, who were still there when everything else came crashing down.

"I know, thank you Alice. I'm sorry I'm such an idiot right now, but things will be alright once I finish my trip."

I wasn't so sure about that, but I needed her to be her happy self again. Alice wasn't supposed to be sad. She was supposed to be the optimist of us, have faith in the future that was about to come and let her spirit wash over us.

"_I_ know that Edward, but I hope you know as well." She stopped for a second and then added: "I'm still going to visit her tomorrow, Edward."

There was not much left for me to say. If Alice had set her mind on something she wouldn't back down.

"Alright Alice, you do that and keep an eye on her while I'm gone. But please try to not mention me?"

"I can't promise you that, my friend," she answered, having her spark almost entirely back. "But don't think about it. You concentrate on coming back in one piece and get your stuff together already!"

How could I not think about it, when it involved Bella? But I agreed, having not much of a choice and we hung up eventually.

I pulled the sleeve of my shirt down a little so that it reached over my hand and wiped the windows clear of the fog once more. This time I didn't see a girl with an red umbrella. The shadows of the night were slowly taking away the last dreary lights of the day. The high humidity in the car made the glasses fog again and again and I was wiping away everything as good as I could with my wet clothes. Ten minutes passed, fifteen minutes passed and then twenty minutes had passed, when a black limousine with tinted glasses turned into the dark parking lot. My phone rang immediately and unexpectedly a female voice greeted me.

"Edward Cullen? Are you the one in that shabby car?"

I wanted to correct her and tell her that she had no right to call anything that was Bella's shabby, but I knew she was right, when you looked at it objectively, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Yes, that would be me."

"This is Jane. Did someone follow you?"

"No, not a soul."

"Good. Then come over to my car. I'm not interested in going out during this weather."

Wasn't I one lucky guy? All those _nice _people circling around my life?! I sighed, hung up and walked across the parking area to the black Limousine. This time closing the door of Bella's car carefully behind me, although it was of no use. The wetness was everywhere already. I walked through the ankle-high grass to the passenger seat, opened it and slipped inside. I wasn't sure, if I was welcomed to do so, but the wind was blowing restlessly now, the rain beating against my face. I was sick of it.

"Hi, you must be Jane," I said, turning my head towards her and extending my hand. I tried to make my voice sound light and carefree, which it sure as hell wasn't.

"Yes, and you are the infamous Edward Cullen," she stated, ignoring my hand and let her gaze flicker over my whole self. "They said you're supposed to be pretty." She paused again, to stare at my face a little longer and I couldn't stop my hand from going through my hair out of bad habit. "I think you're boring."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. But you're right. I _am_ boring."

My left hand lingered in my hair, the other one gripping my upper thigh. This woman made me feel overly uncomfortable. If looks could kill, I would be dead. Her confident stare was almost causing me physical pain as it was.

"Yeah well, it's not your fault. It's just aggravating that I wasted my evening, even volunteered to come. Anyway. This is your passport."

With a shrug, she handed me the piece of paper and I looked it through. Anthony Masen, born in London, with a photo where they photoshopped my hair shorter than it usually was. But it still looked like me. Kind of.

"Why are you still sitting there?" Jane asked after I barely finished looking everything over. "I've got things to do, now that I've decided I don't want to spend my evening with you."

She stared at me expectantly and I was out the door, saying my goodbye sooner than she was able to blink twice.

The next two hours passed in a blur. Bella's car started with a loud noise, blue dust probably coming out of the exhaust. I was forced to drive it slowly down the muddy road, because the tires were worn down and I wasn't even sure if this thing had airbags. I made a quick stop at the hotel, gathered my things and laid the keys to the room onto the reception desk. There was no need to talk to the weird silent woman again when there were no answers anyway.

The drive to the airport passed uneventful and I parked Bella's car in some spot in a parking garage, although I would have liked to leave it at a junkjard instead.

But I figured I should at least tell Bella before I have her car disposed for good.

The minor need to clean my junkfood-mess was easily ignored, because it really didn't make any difference in her car. I gathered my bunch of bags, closed the car carefully, although anyone stealing this mess would bring it back the next day anyway, and headed for the elevators.

After one last look back at Bella's car I followed the small blue arrows leading me to the departure terminal. And towards new hope.

* * *

_Chapter End Notes:_

The Angel Of The North is a sculpture in Gateshead, on a hill South of Newcastle. It was built in 1998 and for pictures and more information you can just google it. It's not that important for the story, though.

Songs mentioned in this chapter belong to Ryan Adams, The Rolling Stones, Beethoven, Debussy and other unmentioned musicians.

So do _you_ think the infamous Edward Cullen is boring? And what's wrong with truck drivers in Texas, Edward?


	15. If It Seems Like An Accident

**Disclaimer:** Stephenie Meyer invented all this Twilight stuff. This is just us, using it.

The FF-Gold-Medal in Awesomeness goes to ...... our Beta Bri!! :)

And, of course, a big, big thank you to all of you that read and review. It means a lot!

* * *

_**If it seems like an accident**_

_And if it seems like an accident  
A collage of senselessness  
You weren't looking hard enough _

_(Bright Eyes – I believe in symmetry)_

_

* * *

_**Bella Swan**_  
_

Going to Iceland was insane indeed, I thought, as I collapsed into my chair.

Eyes firmly closed, I pressed my hands to my temples. Organising my journey had been a lot more trouble than expected.

It may be insane, but it was not stupid or a waste of money, though our finance department liked to believe that. Thankfully, Ben was supporting my proposal, which meant that the finance guys could grumble over the reportage as much as they wanted, and it wouldn't change anything. Well, except for the slightly throbbing pain in my temples.

I took a deep breath and eventually opened my eyes again. There were two booking confirmations in my mailbox. The first one announced that I would arrive at _Keflavík International Airport, Iceland, _tomorrow in the early afternoon. And the second one confirmed my reservation for a hotel room in Reykjavik. With everything else, I was on my own.

I needed to get my gear together, which wasn't that much, of course. I would just take one of my notebooks and my favourite pen and I'd be good. However, Ben had other plans – and how could I say no to someone who just invested over 1.000 pounds in a ticket to Iceland? I glared at the laptop disapprovingly for a few seconds before I concentrated on my camera. I hadn't used it in a while and checked if it was still in good working order.

I was looking through the view-finder as an interesting figure appeared in my field of vision. Always a fan of fiction, I expected Peter Pan flying through the open window any minute, looking for his lost Tinker Bell. Alice Brandon was the type of woman I envied: delicate, graceful and unbelievably gorgeous. I had seen her around the office a few times, her elfish appearance always mesmerising me. Even now I may have been staring as I figured Alice was walking straight my way. "_Look busy_," I challenged myself and fidgeted with the camera.

"Oh my god, I don't know if they still build these. That's a D30, right? Or, no, wait, it has to be a S20! I'd love to give it a try someday!"

I turned towards Alice, who was standing right next to my desk, smiling.

"Um," was my thoughtful reply.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Alice Brandon. I think we've run into each other a couple times, but never really got the chance to talk. You're Bella, right?" She seemed to be always in motion, buzzing with energy, talking and smiling. Her mind and mouth worked a little too fast for me, I didn't even have the time to think about something to say as she already continued. "It's so great to finally meet you!" A beaming smile lit up her face.

It was a smile nobody could resist._ I bet she never got any speeding tickets._

"Hi Alice, yes, I'm Bella, I have no idea why a photographer like you would want to borrow my ancient camera, and of course it's a pleasure to meet you too," I rattled out.

"Oh Bella, silly, it's not ancient, it's classic!" She retorted with such enthusiasm, I had to laugh.

"Well thanks, Alice. I will be sure to pass your appreciation on to my mum; she gave it to me ages ago."

"So, Bella, you fancy popping out for lunch with me? You have to say yes, I know we're going to get along great! And there's this place I know, where they have the best focaccia sandwiches ever, and," she clapped her hands and waggled her head happily, "their coffee is legendary!"

As much as she was nice and fascinating, I didn't know her. And she was a little too forward for my liking.

"Really, thanks for the offer, Alice, but I still have an awful lot of work waiting for me."

"Oh come on, Bella! Do you need some help with your gorgeous S20?"

"Actually, maybe you could give me some advice from a professional point of view?" After all this was going to be the story of the year. _My_ story of the year. There should be a few good shots to combine the article with, and Alice was a photographer.

"Sure! I'd love to!" She snatched the camera from my desk. "But we need to take this outside. This is not an environment for art." And with that the little minx was already half way through the office.

I had to eat anyway, right? I got my bag, let Ben know I was out for lunch and headed for the stairs. I didn't hurry though, because I had a feeling that Alice suffered most from waiting and boredom.

She was nowhere to be seen in the foyer, so I figured she had to be outside.

Of course Alice didn't drive anything as boring as a Volvo. _Not that I was thinking __about any specific Volvo owners._ Alice was leaning against a bright yellow vintage car. It looked like a Porsche, but what did I know about cars?

"Bella! What took you so long?" she shouted, sounding like I was two hours late. The clocks on Planet Alice obviously measured a different time than the ones on good old Mother Earth.

"Fine, we can have lunch together, but you really have to give me some advice, Alice."

"Of course I will, silly. Come on let's go, or they will be out of my favourite focaccia already."

She hopped in and leaned over to unlock my door. I got inside and we sped away.

"I don't care much about cars, but I like yours. It's an ageless beauty."

"Oh my god, that's like the nicest thing anyone has ever come up with. You sure are well with words, Bella Swan." A new song was playing on the radio and Alice immediately cranked up the volume and set in with the singing. Her voice was – of course -incredibly charming. Once again I envied her, but not with resentment, always with admiration.

"Bella, it's not like you're on Britains Got Talent or anything as frightening! Sing with me," Alice chirped, her hands dancing with the steering wheel. I rolled my eyes but grinned nonetheless. Being with Alice was surprisingly easy. As she was singing _'_at the top of her lungs I simply couldn't _not_ like her.

"You know what I love about music?" Alice asked as the song faded out. "That it's not rocket science."

I chuckled, and Alice raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously! Don't go all music snob on me now, I already have a friend like that. Music should be simple, should be fun, pure in a way. Basically it should not be over-analysed."

"I may be guilty. I tend to think and question music a lot. Especially lyrics."

Alice grinned like the cat that ate the canary, pulled into the car-park, hummed to the music and at the same time continued the conversation. "So I'd bet. Actually my friends and I do jam from time to time, you have to come sometime, listen to us play! It's always so much fun, especially when Edward gets on Jasper's nerves by acting all sophisticated." She took the time to breathe, or maybe it was just because we had to get out of the car eventually. It only took her a second to lock the car up and get over to my side. However, the name Edward didn't slip my attention, that and the adjective sophisticated combined with it.

_What were the chances?_

I zoned out for a second, so Alice simply took my arm and walked me to the entrance of the house, which was painted in red maple leafs all over. "You know, Jasper and I would suggest a folky tune, because we love it. How can you not love folk?"

It wasn't really a question, but I shrugged nonetheless.

"Anyway, so in our jam sessions, Edward always goes like 'it's not even worth calling it a melody' and then Jasper goes 'what's bloody wrong with it' and then they would just repeat that for hours if it wasn't for me. But one time for my birthday, they surprised me, both of them onstage, playing You belong to me. Ah, that was so brilliant! Too bad you didn't hear it. Best present ever. Well except, for this beauty here." She flashed a dazzling ring into my field of vision.

Not only did the clocks on Planet Alice work differently, the brains seemed to, too. I couldn't even think as fast as she talked. Thankfully the waiter got me a little time out with his appearance and I absently noticed Alice rattling out a complicated order.

So I figured Alice, who decided to have lunch with me today by chance, has a friend named Edward, who is a music snob and apparently acting sophisticated?

I had a feeling in my gut telling me, that this dinner wasn't a mere accident at all.

"Miss?" My attention was required again.

"Uhm, I'll just take what she has," I said unsure, the open menu still unread in front of me.

"Alright, I'll be right back."

"Sorry, did you just say Edward?" I turned to Alice, raising an eyebrow.

Alice's eyes twisted a little and she continued happily, "My friend Edward, yes, he's such a sweet person!" She smiled quite innocently. "Oh, maybe you've heard of him, I think Newcastle Weekly had an article on his firm Gateshead lately, I know some of my photographs were used for that."

_Yes, and maybe I had heard of him because he was big news all over town for being a murder suspect on the run. And maybe I had heard of him because he stole my car, not to mention that he also kissed me in the most epic way possible. _

"Alice," I paused, just to make sure that she got the seriousness of this, "why are we really here?"

"Okay, okay, so I told him I wanted to meet you properly, but he said I can't and that he wanted to figure out things on his own and I know I'm pushy sometimes, but I just want my friends to be happy. That's not a crime, is it? And you are the one person besides Jasper that Edward actually told what he's going to do next, so I know you're important to him, and that makes you important to me, of course. Why is everybody so distrustful with me?"

She remained silent after her outburst, and I instantly missed her constant happy talk.

One of her words lingered in my mind.

_Important. _

"No, it's not a crime to care about the people that are important to you, Alice. I just find it hard to trust anybody," especially because Edward had let me down quite often these last few days, "I didn't mean to offend you. But you have to understand, that Edward and I only cooperated for an article, nothing more."

"Sure, if you say so," she answered, her tone implicating that she didn't agree at all, but also didn't want to go there any further. I was glad her mobile suddenly blared "Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man" and distracted her. With the sound her eyes lit up a little more, if that was even possible.

"Hi Jasper! I'm at the maple, we were just ordering. Bella's with me. Can you believe they just played Picture Book on the radio? I haven't heard that in ages!"

I tried to be polite and not listen to her talking and dug into my purse to get my notebook out. I couldn't grab it, so I started to put the items that I could get a hold on, onto the table. As I was half way through my belongings I figured I simply forgot to bring it.

_How was I supposed to manage packing all the super important things for Iceland?_

"Oh, darling. Don't worry. Everything is fine. Be nice, okay? Love you."

Alice sighed happily: "He's just the sweetest thing."

I smiled at that, while I was throwing my belongings back into the bag.

"Oh, how cute, Edward has the exact same thing" she happily announced pointing at the white, shiny iPod on the table.

I quickly grabbed it and threw it in my bag as well, and then focussed back on the food, which arrived in that very minute. But it was too late, the occasional blush already highlighting my face.

"No way!" Alice breathed, "Is it Edward's?"

I shrugged, my face getting even hotter. I did not know how to respond to that, without telling her the events of the last few days. We ate in silence, though it wasn't that hard to sense that Alice was nearly bursting with curiosity. She reminded me of a puppy, who just sank it's teeth firmly into your favourite sweater, waiting for the right moment to drag it away to chew on it. It's somewhat cute but still annoying as hell. I knew she wanted to corner me and gather all the information she was craving to get. But surprisingly then, the puppy trolled away and Tinker Bell was back.

"First rule, while I'm your mentor. Always carry a black-and-white film. I sometimes find colours too distracting." And with that, she talked for the next thirty minutes, leaving me extremely sorry that I had no notebook on me. I wasn't sure I would remember at least half of this later, but one thing I was absolutely sure of: Alice Brandon loved photography.

We were already back in front of the office building when she finally announced: "Ok, so I think that was the basics. You have to show me some of the pictures you're taking soon. Or maybe we could even do a little field trip together?"

"Sure, really thanks so much for all the advice, Alice."

"Oh, I know, we should just go out for lunch again, maybe on Friday?"

"I'd love to, Alice, but I'm out of town for a report of some sort. I don't know when I will be back."

"Oh I see," she replied, a knowing smirk on her face, and then she hugged me madly.

"Get him back safely, Bella. I'm counting on you."

I don't know how she did it, but she seemed to know so much out of nowhere.

I was still in shock and awe as she got back in her car, waving and driving away.

* * *

**chapter end notes:**

- songs mentioned in this chapter belong to: The Byrds and Bob Dylan

- Planet Alice and its time measuring system completely belongs to Alice


	16. Turn My Face Towards The Heat

Disclaimer: We don't own anything.

And now feel free to turn your head towards the heat....

* * *

**Chapter 15 - Turn My Face Towards The Heat**

My pupils dilated

The shock sped up my arms

I shut my ambushed eyes

And turned my face towards the heat

(Kevin Devine – All of everything, erased)

* * *

**Edward Cullen**

I tried to balance my conglomeration of bags on one arm to have a free hand to fold my sleeves up a little and have a look at my watch.

Past midnight. The small airport of Newcastle deserted.

A few homeless people, who preferred the warm environment to the cold nights on the streets were curled up in the corners, but were shooed away by the staff as soon as they were discovered.

I had been at this place a couple of times before, mostly business-related, and headed unerringly for a Last Minute shop I knew of. After I had dropped all the bags to my feet and phrased my wishes, an elderly man checked his computer and announced that there were more than enough spare seats on the flights to Copenhagen and Reykjavik available. He didn't even startle when I pushed more than one thousand pounds cash across the counter and handed me my ticket immediately. Before he could over-think this and take the ticket back, I grabbed it, shoved it into my jacket pocket and grinned to myself because for once, this was almost too easy to be true.

I gathered my bags and carried them to an empty bench in the middle of the hall.

Subtracting the actual time from the one that my ticket told me, I had six hours left until boarding would begin.

To get more comfortable, I slid further down the seat and toyed absent-mindedly with the phone in my jacket pocket, my thump sweeping over the buttons again and again.

If it wasn't for the time, I would call her. Maybe her anger would fade into nothingness once I told her where she could find her car. But then again, that car was a death trap waiting to snap. It would be reckless to let her drive around with it.

One week, I told myself. She had to live one week without a car and then I would personally deliver a new one including a decent radio, conditioning, air bags and efficient wipers right to her home.

Those thoughts made me content and peaceful and I was about to close my eyes and drift off into sleep when some announcement through the speakers reminded me where I was and that I shouldn't leave my pile of bags unattended. Nevertheless, after a few minutes my eyes closed on their own accord again.

I may have drifted in and out of sleep a couple of times until I finally gathered the strength to stand up and stroll around the small airport for the remainder of the night.

I kept myself from falling asleep with the help of large amounts of coffee. The caffeine didn't help at all, but I drank so much that I had to pee like a racehorse throughout the whole night, which did the job and kept me awake.

I invested too much time and money in buying a new black suitcase, big enough to contain all my little bags and all the stuff I had previously carried around like a donkey.

Horses, donkeys, in summery I felt like an ungulate through and through.

The sunlight was shining brightly through the big windows, when the digital display above the Check-In counter finally changed to 'Copenhagen'. I jumped from my seat, exited and nervous that something happened at last. Nobody else had even noticed the counter was open, when I heaved the suitcase onto the scale and greeted the small lady in her formal blue stewardess outfit with the nicest smile I could muster. I rummaged through the small cloth bag that was supposed to be my carry-on and pulled the ticket and my new fake-passport out to hand it over.

The lady opened my documents up and her fingers hurried over the keyboard in front of her. Names, numbers, I had no idea what she was typing so furiously. She frowned slightly, deleted something, typed again. My pulse was racing. Did they check the passports right then and there? Wasn't that what police and customs officers were there for? It was one of those moments I realised, on what an unstable wall of bricks I had built this whole trip. One thing going wrong and I would find myself behind iron bars. The lady finally looked at my picture, then into my face and I fought hard against the urge to just look at my hands, ashamed of what I was doing.

And then, suddenly the corners of her lips twitched upwards and she smiled and I forced a smile on my face, too. She reached behind herself, grabbed some printed ticket, wrapped it up in my passport and handed everything over.

I smiled even brighter, a real one this time, hoping she wouldn't feel the rush of ease taking possession of my body that very second.

"I have seated you in 15A, have a great flight, Sir."

Thank. You. Very. Much. I nodded once in thanks and turned to leave the counter.

The security checks were a catwalk after that.

And so was the flight. The only interruption was the man next to me, who snored so loud, his whole seat vibrated with his intakes of breath. I changed flights in Copenhagen, barely able to keep my eyes open enough to see where I needed to go and the second flight came and went just as uneventful as the first. My attempts to do some power-napping were interrupted by cruel stewardesses and some spiracles, but the plane descended safe and sound eventually.

When I finally arrived in Reykjavik around midday, the high humidity of the air and a harsh, cold wind were the only things I recognised before I collapsed into the back seat of a Taxi. The driver was old, the deep wrinkles in his forehead visible in the rear-view mirror when he gazed at me through the reflection. He looked exactly like I always imagined the fisherman in Hemingway's '_The Old Man and the Sea_ '.

"You look tired, son," he said with a sincere kindness and a slight Nordic accent, "where do you want to go?"

Surprised my origin was so obvious to him that he spoke English with me right away, I told him to drive me somewhere nice: a hotel with good beds and tasty food. Fortunately, he did just that. When the taxi came to a halt after a few silent minutes of driving, I stumbled out and he lifted my suitcase out of the trunk with ease and carried it to the entrance of the hotel, providing a friendly welcoming smile and wishing me a good stay.

---

The soft white cushions of the bed felt like heaven and I was lying right in between them, a tender blanket covering me up from head to toes.

The seconds of the clock on the bedside table ticked impatiently, but although it was already late-afternoon, I needed to grant my body some form of rest.

My time however was running out fast. The commercial register would close its doors soon and this journey's only purpose was to reveal the secrets behind 'Fagur Alit', so I needed to get myself going. Groaning and without investing much more time on thoughts about the consequences of getting up, I crawled out from under the sheets, swung my legs over the edge of the bed and got up in one fluid motion.

I rubbed my eyes, forcing them to stay open and reached for the shoes I had kicked under the bed earlier.

The one night I paid in advance for the hotel room had cost me a fortune and depleted my supply of cash to a pathetic minimum, but I couldn't regret the decision to stay right there. The bed was beyond amazing and another plus was its closeness to the city and consequently to the commercial register.

Shrugging my arms through the sleeves of my jacket, I looked for my mobile and eventually spotted it on top of the TV. I had discovered earlier that the phone was not only a phone but also a device to surf the internet, which came in handy when I needed the address and directions to the register. It wasn't all that bad to make deals with the devil.

I grabbed Bella's scarf, flung it around my neck, not without praising its soft texture and the faint scent that was all Bella, put my hat onto my head and was ready to face the cold Icelandic weather.

Although this wasn't a sightseeing trip, I couldn't ignore the beauty of the city. As I meandered through the streets, framed by small colourful houses, and watched the local people do their work in a peaceful manner, I fell in love with this country just a little bit. If I were here on holiday, I would sit down at the harbour and watch those fishermen the whole day. But I walked at a steady pace, never slowing. The tiredness had disappeared with the cold breeze blowing in my face. The solution to all of this finally right in front of me and I wanted some answers at last.

I entered the amber coloured house with my hopes held high. If this would go as planned, I could locate the stupid firm first thing tomorrow morning and would finally know to whom all that money went and why. A sign right next to the entrance told the directions to the respective rooms, but the language was completely foreign to me. I tried to comprehend, but ended up looking around for someone to help me out. Rumours about public authorities seemed to be true after all. The silence in the building made me believe nobody was working at all. But with a method of trial and error, opening and closing doors, walking through the corridors like a maze, I finally found the right room.

It was a surprise that my hand wasn't already interlaced with my hair, since I was grabbing it frequently, my nervousness intensifying the impulse.

The answers were so close. I would get an address, maybe even a name, which would possibly be the name of the person who killed Claire.

"Good evening M'dam," I nodded to the middle-aged lady, who still had to look up at me, "I hope you speak English. My name is Ed--," I coughed hysterically, "Anthony Masen, and I was told this is where to find the commercial register?"

My new name sounded still false on my lips, but the coughing must have gotten her attention, since she eventually looked up at me through her thick horn-rimmed glasses.

"Yes, that's right."

Relieved, I put my request straight forward. I had to fill out a form and pay in advance before the horn-framed-glasses-lady would do anything. When all formalities were done, she typed and deep wrinkles appeared on her forehead, as if this simple task needed all her concentration.

"Did you spell this right?" She shot me an accusing look, her eyes appearing much too big due to the thick glasses.

"Yes."

"Well you must have made a mistake, there isn't any company registered by that name."

This couldn't be. I checked the paper again, but I spelled everything right.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I was already doing this job when you weren't even born, so I guess that makes me the expert of the two of us. If I tell you it isn't there, it simply isn't. Any other requests? No? Fine. Bye."

"But they have a bank account!" I lamely protested.

She rolled her eyes at me, "I do too, kiddo."

The door shut on its hinges behind me and I was out in the cold again. It wasn't all that late yet, but the sun already disappeared behind the horizon, the short Icelandic day coming to an early end. I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets and strolled back into the direction I originally came from. My shoulders hung low. The hope I arrived with had been punched in the face and lay on the ground defeated. I desired to lie right next to it.

Fagur Alit didn't exist. It wasn't a registered company and I had no idea what else it could be. What was I supposed to do now?

I was far away from home, my only trace gone. The fake passport was for nothing. Everything felt like such a waste of time and energy. I was a fool to believe that this might work.

The only path I had left was the bank account, but that was a dead end as well. They wouldn't expose any information to me. The account was probably deleted already after everything that had happened. My feet moved forward automatically until I was back in my hotel room, the white cushions looking even more inviting than ever.

Before I collapsed, I shrugged out of my jacket, pulled my phone out of the pocket and took it with me. I knew what he had said about not contacting him anymore, the words were still fresh in my mind, but I had to call Jasper. If anyone knew what was going on and why this company wasn't even listed, it would be him.

I dialled, lying on the bed, Bella's scarf still attached firmly around my neck, its warmth comforting me.

"Hello, this is Alice answering Jasper's phone. Who's there?" Alice chirped into the receiver. I thought about hanging up right then, because I didn't want her to get involved, but it felt too good to hear a familiar voice. I craved the company of my friends more than ever.

"Alice, hey, it's Edward. Where's Jasper?"

"Edward! It's so good to hear from you. Jasper's just taking a shower or something. Where are you and more importantly how are you? Are you alright?"

"Sure Alice, I'm fine. Things are a little complicated right now, but it's all fine. It would be great if I could speak to Jasper for a second, though."

It was lightening my mood to just hear her lilting her words, but I needed advice. Someone who was able to solve this riddle with me.

"Sure, you can talk to him as soon as he gets out of the bathroom, but I've got information for you." I could feel her smile right through the speaker and practically see the glistening in her eyes that she had whenever there was gossip to share. I wasn't in the mood.

"Alice please, you can tell me everything when I'm back. This won't take long. Can you please just get Jasper out of the bathroom. I'd really appreciate that."

"Oh I would and leave you right there hanging without all those nice information I've got, but unfortunately it isn't in my nature to do so. You know how I'm a nice person and how I love to share my knowledge. If you knew what I know, you'd be begging me to tell you. No wait, then you would already know and not beg anymore. You know what I mean, right?"

"Okay Alice, you won," I said defeated, "just tell me what you know."

"Now you want to know, huh? Alright then, I met Bella today. Ah, really Edward, she's such a nice person, complimented my car and everything. And she has this classic camera I always wanted to have. They don't make things like that anymore. And it's in such a good shape, too. I really hope she's going to lend it to me someday or go on some photo trip with me--"

I sat up straight in bed, rising my hand to the back of my neck and touched the blue scarf, where my fingers played with the thin fabric at the ends. Bella's name falling from Alice' lips got my full attention. Did Bella mention me? Did she know I knew Alice? Was she angry? Was she alright?

"Alice, please stop talking about her photo equipment. What was she like? What did you tell her? How is she feeling?"

"Oh Edward, I think Jasper's just coming out of the bathroom. You wanna talk to him?" Alice chuckled, but I couldn't see the fun in this torture.

"Alice, please, I need to know. Is she alright?"

"Of course she's alright, Edward. Don't be silly. Didn't you just see her yesterday? And we talked so much, I almost had her singing with me in the car. But she's all shy and sweet. I love her Edward. You and her will be amazing together."

I closed my eyes imagining everything Alice told me. I could see Bella's beautiful face, blushing when Alice asked her to sing with her. It was the sweetest mental image, her cheeks all flustered and red, eyes looking down in embarrassment, and then she would look up through her lashes....

I needed to know.

"Did she, I mean, did you... mention me?"

Alice was silent for a moment, but I knew she smiled her signature victory-smile, due to the fact that she finally gained my curiosity.

"Of course I mentioned you. Told her about our little jam sessions."

Okay, this wasn't so bad. But I needed to know more.

"And she knew, that you were talking about me? She made that connection?" I asked, still curious about everything that concerned Bella – and me.

"Of course she did. She's not stupid. As soon as I was talking about this sophisticated friend of mine, she knew exactly who I was talking about."

I sunk back onto the cushions and grabbed another one to pull it over my head. _This must be a nightmare. _

"She did not!" I insisted, hoping Alice might be joking.

"Did too. I told her everything about you and Jasper and your senseless discussions through our sessions. I think she totally agreed when I explained what a music snob you are."

"Oh sweet Jesus," I mumbled against the pillow I still pressed to my face as if it made me disappear. "I bet she hates me even more now. Why did you do that? I told you I liked her and--"

"She can't hate you that much. She even carries your stupid iPod in her bag. That holy possession of yours we aren't allowed to touch most of the time."

I lifted the pillow off my face.

"She does?"

"Ha, so it's really yours, isn't it? She was totally embarrassed by it though. Wouldn't even look at me when I asked her about it."

I was elated. She took it and listened to what was my world.

"Which songs does she like, Alice? Tell me everything. What else did she tell you?"

"How would I know Edward? She didn't even acknowledge that it's yours and she's not a talkative one, is she? Didn't you want to talk to Jasper anyway?"

Alice' giggling died down a bit and I heard Jasper's voice faintly in the background, not understanding what he was saying.

"Yeah, yeah sure, give the receiver to Jasper," I said, not thinking clearly as my thoughts were still lingering around Bella, cheeks flushing, my iPod in her hand.

Heavenly.

"Hello Edward, didn't expect to hear from you so soon again," Jasper drawled, his uneasiness towards me palpable. And that was all it took to get me back to earth, letting the daydreams about that sweet brown-haired girl coming to an abrupt end.

"Yeah sorry, Jasper, I wouldn't have called if it wasn't necessary. I need your expert knowledge. I just don't know what to do anymore."

"In other words you did exactly what I told you not to do. You dug yourself a bloody deep hole and now you're stuck."

He was right, he warned me, and I didn't listen. Or actually I _did_ listen, but ignored his warnings. But it wasn't like he had offered me any genius plan as an alternative either.

"Are you going to help me?" I asked, truly afraid of his answer.

"Of course I'm going to help you, moron. What else can I do? Let you rot in Iceland or wherever you are? So what is it? Did you run out of money? Did Jason already send his troops after you?"

I sighed a deep sigh of relief.

"No, nothing of that sort. Although my supply of money is getting thin I don't really mind." And then I explained everything to him. How I found those documents of the weird transfers in the accountant department and how I saw my only chance in Iceland, finding the company and its owner. Of course my little tale excluded everything concerning emotional or physical contact towards Bella. I kept it all highly professional, giving him only the important facts.

Jasper listened without interrupting me. He didn't make a single sound, not even taking an audible breath and when I was finished, I was met with silence.

"Jasper, you still there?" I asked. "What am I supposed to do now? The company doesn't exist. It's just another dead end. And I have this bank account and a number. How can a company have a bank account when it doesn't even exist?"

"You didn't just dig yourself a hole, Edward. Someone already put the earth back in, burying you inside." Jasper was calm and collected again, his words a total knockdown, but his voice still held hope. I could tell his mind was already working out a way around this, a solution, a way to shovel me out of my imaginary grave again.

"So, can you tell me any way out of this mess?"

"You have to try the bank," he answered, sounding like an officer filling me in on his tactics to win the war. "I agree, it's worthless, but now that you're already there, you should try. The company is probably fake. Got the bloody account with false papers or something. Maybe they're going to give you an address or a name. There shouldn't be too much secrecy around a bloody address, so just try your luck. And remember those people working in banks love money. Especially when it lands in their own pockets. So if they don't cooperate, you can always offer a proposal. But be careful how you phrase that shit. One wrong word and it's illegal. Not that you seem to care about that, do you?"

I lay still on my bed, one hand on the receiver the other one grabbing my hair, having no real answer for him. Of course I cared about the law. I wanted things to go smoothly and nice, but if this wasn't going to work out, I was open to try a different approach. My morals had already sunk. I wasn't as opposed to bribing the bank clerk as I would've been a few days ago.

"Alright, I take your silence as an answer," Jasper continued his explanations. "Once you got an address, try to locate it and see what it is. Some people are stupid enough to name their home address. But when people have blood on their hands they usually think things through a little more profoundly. But be careful when you look for that address. Maybe that creep is right there, waiting for his next victim. You always have to be prepared for the worst scenario possible."

We talked some more after that. Jasper got angry about the amount of money I paid Jason for my passport, telling me the prices in the scene were much cheaper and I should have gotten a decent weapon right along with it for that price. But I couldn't care less. If one thing wasn't a problem, it was money. But that explained, why I got a phone for free.

And to be honest, carrying a mobile didn't sound as scary as carrying a gun. I still thought I had made quite the good deal.

Eventually we hung up, Jasper wishing me good luck and promising me hell if I wasn't going to call him every other day to tell him I was alright.

---

Despite the outside world crashing down on me, I slept like a baby. Surrounded by the flowery smell of fresh linens and the prospect of getting an all-inclusive breakfast, I awoke well-rested and optimistic that this day would finally give me some answers. That was until I took a look at the clock, realising it was already past midday and the breakfast-buffet ended hours ago.

I had to hurry then, half of the day already wasted for nothing. I showered, dressed, put my clothes back into the suitcase and deposited said suitcase in some locker at the hotel's reception. I had no money left to stay another night in that fancy hotel, but had no real idea about where my day would bring me in the evening. I decided to grab some sandwiches on the way and headed straight for the bank, to follow Jasper's advices.

When I arrived at the comparably tall building, I didn't hesitate.

Without a real plan or strategy, I entered the bank, looking around for someone who appeared competent enough to help me. I spotted two young women behind a counter and slowly approached them. They seemed like the kind, that could be convinced easily enough of my need to know a name, although it was doubtful they had the knowledge.

"Good afternoon, Ladies," I began, leaning casually with my elbow on the counter. "How are you today?" I smiled a rather forced smile, trying the friendly approach before I started to offer money I didn't have.

"Very good, Sir. Thank you. How may I help you?"

The other one giggled behind her and whispered a short word in Icelandic, which caused the first one to stomp with her heel on the other one's foot.

"I'm sorry, she doesn't understand any English," she excused. "What can I do for you?"

"It would be delightful, if you were able to give me some information I need," I tried, smelling an easy pushover in these girls.

"Of course, Sir. Do you need information on credits, on assets, maybe a new account?"

"Oh no, it's something entirely different. I've got this account number and it would be all too wonderful, if I can get a name or an address to it."

I lay a little paper, on which I had written all the information I already had, on the counter and waited for the blonde girl to tell me some more.

But as I should have expected, the poor girl was overstrained. She fumbled with the locks of her too blonde hair, told me how deeply sorry she was about her being of no help and finally excused herself to get the boss. I was left with the other girl staring at me like a hungry kitten. _What the hell was her deal?_

The guy that came out of his office to greet me was small with blonde spiky hair, probably to let him appear a little taller than he actually was. He had one hell of a handshake though.

"Góðan dag, Newton my name. I heard there was a problem?" Firm and determined he shook my hand, his face all happy smiles.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Newton. No, there's no real problem. I just need some quick information. It's nothing too dramatic."

I tried to make it appear a little unimportant, hoping he wouldn't see something as simple as a name or an address as something worth his while. And when he nodded for me to continue, I quickly invented some new story to the numbers on my note:

"I have this account number, which belongs to a customer of yours. This company transferred money to my account repeatedly, so it would be amazing, if you could tell me a name behind the number, so I can thank those people properly. The statement of account only showed the firm's name, but they don't have a webpage or something to locate them, so I thought maybe you could help me out?"

He eyed me curiously.

"You only have the account's number? I'm sorry Miss Jónsson didn't already tell you, sometimes blonde hair seems to really have an impact on brain function, doesn't it?" he laughed a hearty laugh, his chest vibrating with his chuckles. "But we can't give out information like that. We take the banker's discretion fairly serious."

"Oh you do, don't you?" I thought of Jasper and his advice. Mr. Newton definitely looked like someone who loved money. I decided to take the risk of being rejected. It couldn't get any worse now. "So, how much do you like holidays? Like in the Caribbean or maybe Italy, somewhere nice and warm?"

"I don't really understand Mr....."

"Masen. My name is Masen. I'm just offering you a nice journey. Let's say two weeks? With your girlfriend?"

"Are you trying to corrupt me, Mr Masen?"

"No, no, not at all. Of course not. I was just thinking, maybe you could use some time off and you know, I scratch your back, you scratch mine. This would be favourable for everyone."

I was really getting into this game and some invisible force was driving me. Since I started talking to Mr. Newton, a constant buzz was flowing through my body. As if I had to convince him. As if I had to prove that I was able to solve this puzzle. Prove it to myself and to everyone involved. It was as if someone watched my every move and I had to avoid mistakes at all costs.

"Really Mr. Masen, to me this sounds like you're bribing me and I can't have that. You should probably leave the bank."

"I promise, I wasn't trying to bribe you. I was just offering--"

And then the buzz increased, Newton's eyes shifted to my right side and the buzz centred itself on my forearm, warmth spreading from there to everywhere.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. Why didn't you wait for me?"

I glanced down to the warmth on my forearm, not believing what I was hearing, what I was feeling. But there it was, the delicate hand of Bella Swan, softly touching my forearm.

* * *

**chapter end notes:  
**

They're back together!!! I can't believe it myself. I hope you're all as happy as we are. Thanks to all of you for reading and leaving your wonderful reviews!


	17. Either Way

**Disclaimer:** 100% of this belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

_Finally, Bella and Edward are back together. _Thanks for reading and reviewing. It means a lot!

* * *

_**Chapter 16 - Either way**_

_Maybe the sun will shine today  
The clouds will roll away  
Maybe I won't be so afraid  
I will understand  
Everything has its plan either way _

_(Either Way - Wilco)_

_

* * *

_**Bella Swan**_  
_

The sunlight turned the ocean into thousands of diamonds. I took a deep breath and let the salty air wash through me. I felt myself smile; finally some peace of mind. Waves crashed against the rock I was standing on. Besides that, the only sound was a distant screeching of gulls. Eyes closed, I couldn't resist the temptation to spread my arms wide, throw back my head and send a radiant smile up to the sky.

Suddenly, the warm feeling on my skin was gone and when I opened my eyes, dark clouds were now blocking the sun. I sighed. _Just my luck. _I probably should be going anyway.

As I turned around, a guy, dressed in black with no shoes on, was running towards me. Even though he was racing downhill, his long steps were smooth and precise. A storm was approaching and turning his hair into a mess. He got closer and closer until I recognised his face.

_What was he doing here? _

I shivered, hugging myself, the icy wind nearly knocking me off my feet. The collar of his trench coat was turned up, making his whole appearance from jaw to ankles black.

His eyes were frantic, staring straight into mine. Finally, he was by my side, grabbing my elbow, dragging it. Dragging _me _with him.

I refused to lift my feet, because I wouldn't let him just take me. He turned around, his forehead deeply wrinkled, his eyes pleading. I looked down, knowing I couldn't think straight when I was lost in those deep green seas. Then I saw it.

A gun, heavy in his hand. It was wrong, that disgusting tool of violence in his delicate fingers. I shuddered at the thought that he might use it; that he might _have _used it already.

His other hand left my elbow and I instantly stumbled back a bit, looking up, searching his eyes, asking a silent question.

_Why the gun?_

The guilt in his eyes mixed with sorrow as he stepped closer and lifted his free hand to my cheek. Thunder rolled, and rain started to fall. His lips moved but I was irritated, the words were not spoken by his velvety voice.

"Miss! Miss!" the voice of a woman called and my vision blurred.

I blinked. I was in an air plane and a stewardess was leaning towards me.

"Would you please fasten your seatbelt, we're about to land."

I did as she requested, still shaken.

I tried to grasp the fact that I had dreamt of Edward Cullen.

It was probably just a processing of the events of the last days. I shouldn't put too much meaning into it. The whole crime thing and the trip to Iceland were obviously good enough for my brain to give me some extra action. That, or my brain just liked giving me a hard time forgetting the emotions concerning Edward Cullen.

The plane was sinking, breaking through the clouds. The landscape beneath became clearer and showed the rugged shoreline of Iceland. Every once in a while tiny looking buildings were cuddled into a group, populating the island. Admiring the view, I couldn't help myself thinking about Edward. He was somewhere down there. Maybe my dream wasn't so absurd after all and he did have a gun, considering he was already fugitive. I really hoped he didn't. He was some business guy, not a criminal.

Well, at least not the kind of criminal that kills people. Stealing cars however was another matter altogether. Though I had sworn myself not to, deep down in my heart I worried about him. Here in this plane, far away from home, in another world, I could admit that I missed Edward Cullen. I closed my eyes, sneering to myself – this was the most pathetic feeling I've ever had in my entire life.

The undercarriage hit the ground and I realised we had arrived at Keflavík International Airport. As soon as it was allowed, I stood and grabbed my shoulder bag, relieved to get off the plane - finally some open space. Passport control went uneventfully, baggage claim however not so much. My eyes were already tiring from watching the baggage carousel turn and turn and turn. Eventually it stopped turning and I was still standing there. Without my luggage of course._ Great._

A few minutes later the overeagerly smiling clerk of Icelandair explained that it was probably lost and he would go further into the matter. Of course, I had to wait. To pass the time, I turned my mobile on and texted Charlie that I arrived safely. After a toilet visit and another listen to Wonderwall – which was, needless to say, still no better than Live Forever – I was bored enough to face the enemy: I switched the laptop on.

I tried to get used to that thing a little better, since I was supposed to check with Ben regularly. The desktop appeared and with it a little furious blinking thing in the right corner. _Whatever,_ I thought, and was about to move on, as another window demanded my attention.

"_You have two new messages."_

The first one was from Ben, containing only one line:

"_And the adventure of Lois Lane begins."_

I chuckled; he could be such a geek sometimes. For him this meant he wished me luck and expected much from me – not that I didn't already know that.

The second one was from the Icelandic Public Registry.

_The documents about Fagur Alit! _

I held my breath, another piece of the puzzle finally at hand.

_'"The requested documents can not be processed. There are no registry entries for your search criterion 'Fagur Alit'. To avoid misunderstandings, we advise you to check if your search term was properly spelled and/or typed. _

_Please note that your order was therefore free of charge."_

So fagur alit was not a registered company?

What could that possibly mean?

That the firm didn't exist - at least for legal purposes, no taxes for example; but there was a bank account. Though I was no expert, I thought a bank would need registration papers to open an account.

So the only way was that someone faked the papers to get the account? I bet the transferred money from _Gateshead_ was always leaving that Fagur Alit account shortly after.

_Embezzlement._

Could it be so simple?

Someone was stealing money from Edward and _Gateshead Windpower_ and transferred it to a made up firm in Iceland? That's the reason Claire had to die? I shook my head, disgusted.

Now Edward's last straw to find some proof for his innocence was the account. I bet he would try to get information from the bank - not that that would get him anywhere. But he would try anyway, and for that reason, my first stop in Reykjavik had to be the bank too.

I told the laptop to shut down and tucked it in my bag. To pass the time, I listened to some more music on Edward's iPod; I had gotten quite used to the little white thing. Nonetheless I was going to give it back to him as soon as I found him. I'm not someone who doesn't respect other person's belongings. Suddenly a sign with a rapidly blinking battery appeared on the display and then silence surrounded me. "_Great_," I muttered sarcastically.

After some more staring into space, the still overeagerly smiling Icelandair guy finally told me that my luggage was indeed lost and on a flight to Rome. _Why me? _I filled out a form, left my contact information and was handed an "Overnight Kit" with toiletries and underwear. If everything worked out alright I would get my suitcase back within the next 48 hours, I was promised.

Honestly, right now, I didn't care so much. I was anxious about finally getting to Reykjavik.

The taxi ride into the city took me about 35 minutes, and the words to describe the scenery already formed in my head. At first, the road sides were very lonely - almost abandoned, but as we got closer to Reykjavik, population was growing. Reykjavik itself was a fascinating sight. Surrounded by water and majestic mountains, I was instantly drawn to the individuality and charm of the city. A lot of rooftops were of bright colour and mixed surprisingly well with some modern office buildings. Everything was very green and people seemed at ease. It felt more like being in a village instead of a nation's capital.

As asked, the taxi drove me directly to the bank. Since I had no big luggage on me, I didn't want to waste time with checking in at the hotel first.

In the entrance area of the bank there were a few cash machines, but the facilities couldn't grab my attention for long. The bank itself wasn't very crowded, there was only one costumer leaning against a counter, talking to two employees. It took a few seconds until my eyes transferred the information to my brain and I stopped dead in my tracks.

He was standing with his back to me, but I would have recognised him anywhere. His hair was in its usual glory mess, but now his clothes were a mess also. Of course he could wear anything and still look like he was straight out of Vogue magazine. The jeans were a little too long, and his jacket was awfully crinkled.

He seemed physically fine though, and I smiled, relieved. What kind of remarkable coincidence was this? I stepped into the bank and instantly found Edward Cullen? I snorted, maybe years of watching Star Wars had finally given me some Jedi powers.

The giggling of the two girls opposite of Edward brought me back to reality. They were ogling him, pretty much undressing him there and then. Edward didn't seem to notice or care – I couldn't tell.

He was shoving a tiny paper towards one of them and then she trailed off. The other one however, looked like she'd jump over the counter any minute and throw herself at him. Edward looked towards the direction where Blonde Girl #1 had left to and I could finally see his face. His beautiful jaw showed a three-day stubble, his neck was covered with a light-blue scarf and before I could observe anything more, he turned further and I quickly stumbled back so that he wouldn't see me. Of course my shoe got caught in the rug and I landed on the floor, next to a cash machine, which actually was a pretty good hiding place.

I waited a moment and then carefully straightened up again. Edward was now paying attention to a banker in front of him, shaking hands. From my position I couldn't hear anything so I quickly went to a brochure display that was a little behind them, next to a conveniently big green plant. I took one of the brochures out and held it up in front of my face, just to make sure they wouldn't notice me and started listening.

My foot twitched with the need to kick Edward. He was making up the most ridiculous story I had ever heard, about a company regularly transferring money to him and his need for a name and the address to thank them properly. Although – judging by the lame joke he just made about blondes - the banker seemed pretty brainless, he wasn't dumb enough to release the information.

I think Edward watched way too many gangster films. He was asking how much Mr. Newton – the bank clerk – liked holidays and offered him a two weeks journey to the Caribbean with his girlfriend. Wasn't it some unwritten rule to not offer bribery in public? I think he just insulted the bank guy. To cut a long story short: he was ruining it. I needed to interact or we wouldn't get anywhere.

A game plan quickly formed in my head. It was risky, but I couldn't come up with anything else. I shrugged out of my jacket, closed my eyes for a second and undid two more buttons of my blouse. I opened my eyes again and peeked down my neckline. I think everything was still properly covered, but I was way out of my comfort zone. Feeling strangely naked I left my hiding-place and walked over to them.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. Why didn't you wait for me?" I patted Edward's arm in an intimate, familiar gesture. At least I hoped that it looked like that.

Edward's eyes were on my hand, staring, and energy poured through my hand. I stopped the patting; the heat would get to my head very soon.

I was a bad enough liar even without any blush.

He looked at me then and I tried to keep talking. "You know that I don't have any willpower left in a lingerie store. You shouldn't have just left me there!" His eyes grew wide and a response was building up in his throat. I shot him a look, hoping he would understand that I had a plan here. Thankfully Newton was clearing his throat then, remarking he was still present.

I turned towards him, and a smug look was plastered on his face. At least, that was better than the offended look he had shot Edward earlier. Maybe I was getting somewhere with this.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. That was rude, wasn't it?" I leant forward and looked at the name tag of the banker – Michael Newton. "Michael it's nice to meet you. My name is Lois, I'm his sister. I hope he didn't offend you before I arrived – he has a little temper." I smiled and attempted to pat Edward's arm once more. But his hands were now crushed into his pockets, so I clapped him on the shoulder softly.

"Ah, don't mention it, Lois. It is my pleasure."

We shook hands, and he did it a little too eagerly.

_I would like to have my hand back in this century, thank you very much, _I thought, but shot him a big smile, even patting our entangled hands with my free left hand. That did the trick and he finally let go. Edward was still dangerously quiet, but I couldn't think too much about him or his mental state right now.

"So, Michael, did my dear brother already inform you about the help that we hope you would grant us?" I fluttered my eyelashes a few times and prayed to any almighty figure that might be out there, that I did look a little seductive and not as ridiculous as I felt.

"I already told your brother that I'm not allowed to release that kind of information."

_Shit. _

_What now, Bella? Stupid, stupid, stupid._

I searched Edward's eyes, which actually looked a little relieved. He stayed silent though, hands in his pockets. Was I the only one here knowing, that this was his last chance? After all, he should be charming Newton, not me.

I pointedly glanced around the open office area and then back to Newton.

"Michael, would you mind talking to me in private for a second?"

I kept my smile up and ignored the pain that was shooting through my right wrist; Edward had grabbed it.

"Sure, let's talk about this in my office. Go ahead, Lois, this way."

He pointed the direction and I quickly escaped Edward's death grip.

"I'll be right back dear, don't worry. Have a coffee!" I said, looking over my shoulder. Edward had his hands now in fists, working his death grip on himself.

I ignored him as much as I could and concentrated on Newton, who was trailing behind me.

_You can do this Bella. You're a strong, independent woman._

His office was close, but out of sight from where Edward was standing. Newton pulled a chair out for me and offered me a drink. Even given the situation, I couldn't resist a decent coffee. He got two cups from the coffee brewer and seated himself behind his desk, towards me.

We both took a sip from our coffee and then, thankfully, Newton wanted to do some small-talk.

"So, Lois," he smiled at me, "I figure you're on holiday in Iceland?" I smiled back, _yeah sort of._ "How are you and your brother liking it?"

"To be honest, Michael, I haven't gotten around much. We've just arrived yesterday and I've been spending most of my time shopping," I smiled a little stupidly, "but the city seems to be very beautiful, and everyone," I leaned forward and patted his hand, which was resting on the table, a little, "has been treating us very, very nicely."

"Call me Mike, please," he insisted, stood up and walked around the table to my side. He leaned his backside against the table beside my chair, coming closer. "And how could one not treat a beautiful lady like you nicely."

I was panicking inside. Maybe I wasn't made for things like this, I needed to get out of here. Enough of this charade.

My smile felt a little shaky, my voice however came out clear and unaffected.

"Mike, I'm sorry to bring this up again, but we would be really thankful if you helped us out with the account issue."

He looked at me, pensive.

"Of course, it would totally stay between us. Nobody has to know where we got our information from," I continued. It was now or never.

"Well, Lois, how do I know, that I can trust you?" he asked, in a low voice, now supporting himself with both palms behind him on the table. For a second he even looked a little dangerous.

"Oh, I assure you, you can trust me!" I replied quickly and stood up, so I could look him in the eye. I was feeling more and more as a prey, sitting down in that chair.

"Well, I'm sorry, Lois, your assurance is not enough," he said, standing now himself.

We were eyeing each other, much too close for two complete strangers.

My shoulders sank down with my eyes, I had lost. _We_ had lost. I had embarrassed myself for nothing, I thought disgusted. How stupid was my plan anyway?

_Plain old Bella just goes and flirts with the guy a little and he willingly delivers everything she wants? Good one, Bella. A really, really good one. _

Before my mind could form any more for my sarcastic monologue, Newton spoke up again.

"Well, if you gained my trust--," he trailed off, well aware that I was suddenly all ears. I looked back at him, and he was smiling a winning smile. "How about we spend the evening together? I'll walk you around the city a bit and then we have dinner together?"

_This_ was really not going anywhere I wanted it to go.

_Last chance, remember? _

"O-O-Okay," I stuttered out, before I could run screaming from his office.

Of all things, _Mike_ had the nerve to be all polite and thoughtful for this pretty much blackmailed date. He told me he looked forward to it and asked where to pick me up. I quickly stammered out the information, offered him another shaky smile and hurried from the office; what I needed now was some fresh air and a drink.

Edward was still in the bank, of course pacing up and down, hands in and out of his hair. I moved as silently as I could, but his eyes instantly met mine. I looked away and walked past him, knowing that my face was getting seriously red. I watched my steps carefully; I was so upset that my feet wouldn't work properly on their own account. Edwards fast steps were behind me and I was barely out of the building when his beautiful voice called for me:

"Bella, wait!"

My gaze was still on my feet, keeping them in motion. Busying my mind.

"Bella, please!" he called again, this time closer.

His hand was on my upper arm and I felt like a robot lifted up from the ground, feet still mechanically moving on their own account. But there weren't any robot powers inside of Bella Swan, dilettante journalist, so my feet and _I came to a dead stop, anchored by Edward Cullen.

Only now I registered the goosebumps on my skin, realising what I was wearing. I shrugged Edwards hand off me and fiddled around with the buttons of my blouse for a little while. Of course without quick success, so I simply put my jacket back on and zipped it up. Edward was silent the whole time and I had nothing left to distract myself from the fact that I was spending the evening with some crude banker for some stupid information that was only of value for the idiot standing in front of me. An idiot worth a good story, but still an idiot. If he hadn't insulted Newton, maybe there would have been an easier way.

"You know it's all your fault!" I pointed at him, turned around and stalked away.

"I'm sorry," Edward announced, walking next to me.

"You don't even know what you're apologising for, do you?" I stopped and looked at him, hands on my hips.

"Well, I'm afraid there have been _quite a few_ misconceptions between the two of us lately," was his wary reply.

"Between the two of us?" I choked every emotion I had inside of me. This was the head speaking, not the heart.

"There is no such thing." I started walking again because I couldn't handle the pensive look on his face. "I'm talking about your ragged attempt at bribery! Seriously Edward, what were you thinking? Now I have to pull the fucking chestnuts out of the fire for you! You really better be innocent, Mister, and this better be worth it." I breathed for a second. "If you will excuse me now, I need to buy something to wear. Call me tomorrow, and then we'll know what Newton spit out."

"Tomorrow? What exactly happened in Newton's office, Bella?" Edward had once again grabbed my upper arm. This was becoming some bad habit of his. My arm, the traitor, however vibrated with his touch. We were now standing face to face. Green eyes staring into brown ones.

"He wants to see if he can trust me first."

"And this is operated how exactly?"

"A date," I mumbled. I didn't want another _'be safe' _lecture.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch what you said. For a second it sounded like you said you would date that freak," he spoke with nervous laughter in his voice.

"It sounded like that, because I said it."

His free hand grabbed my other upper arm, both hands now squeezing me. "No! I cannot allow that. You will not date that weasel!"

I was getting stupidly fuzzy inside because of his behaviour. If I didn't already know better, I'd think the infamous Edward Cullen cared about me. Alice also thought I was important to him. I couldn't believe that. It was probably just that he needed me undamaged for further research.

Above all, his commanding words made me angry. Nobody tells me what to do.

"First: I can date whoever I want. Second: Think about it once again, Edward. Think! If you don't get any information about Fagur Alit soon, you're screwed. And with screwed, I mean really, really screwed. It isn't registered, so the bank is the last trace."

His hands left my arms and went straight into his hair. My gaze followed them, remembering how good it had felt under my fingers. His forehead was wrinkled, visualising the battle probably going on inside. As I reached his eyes, he was looking straight at me, which I probably should have noticed a few seconds earlier; that would have stopped my ogling.

"Really, Bella. You don't have to do this. I'll find another way," he assured me, though his voice sounded defeated. I couldn't get past his sad eyes, it wasn't easy for him to let anybody take charge of his things. He couldn't let the police prove his innocence, he came here to do it himself and now he needed me.

If I had faith in me, I would've hugged him. But I had no faith - I wasn't sure I'd let him go again. So instead I laid one hand on his arm, comforting him.

"There isn't any other way right now, Edward, and you know it. It's just a date, I can manage that. You get your information, Newton gets a date and I get my article."

"Your article?" Edward asked in a low voice.

"Yes, my article that will save your sorry ass," I quickly replied, not missing his accusing tone.

There was a moment of silence and Edward's hand was moving up to my face. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and his fingers lingered on my cheek. Blood was rushing through me. I avoided Edwards tender eyes, glimpsed at his chin, his scarf-covered neck, his inviting chest, as my fingers were still holding onto his arm tightly.

Realising what we were doing here, what my hand was doing, what Edward's hand was doing, I withdrew mine and stepped back minimally to ease the tension.

I heard Edward sigh and his hands went to his neck. The colour of his scarf seemed a little odd for his usual style; it reminded me a lot of one of my own that I couldn't find when I was packing my things for this journey.

"You know, I have a scarf the same colour as yours. I didn't know you were much into pastel," I tried to change to a lighter topic, mocking him.

My smile however faded as he hung down his head in shame. _He didn't..., did he?_

"Edward Cullen! Is that _my_ scarf around your neck?" I crossed my arms.

"Well," he began, "I was on my way to Iceland and I suspected it would be quite chilly this far north. And it wasn't like I had a scarf of my own, you know."

"So you figured, _'oh, why not take one more of Bella's belongings?'_ It's not like I'm offering self-service here, Edward!"

"God, Bella. Why are you so possessive with all of your things? The scarf could still be in the backseat of your car or it can be here around my neck. What's the difference? Here, you can have it back, if you want." He started taking the scarf off, his last words actually sounding sad and disappointed.

I knew it was only a stupid scarf, not worth much, but as a matter of principle he had to give it back; after all it was mine. He needed to get his head around this.

"The difference is that most people know how to respect each other." I grabbed one end of the scarf, which he was now holding in front of me, careful not to touch his skin, and fumbled for the iPod in my bag with the other hand. "Here, I believe this is yours. Though I didn't ask for it, I thank you for trusting me with it." I handed him the iPod and pulled at the scarf, but he didn't release it.

"No Bella, it's not mine anymore. I gave it to you. It was a gift. Please, keep it. I'm really, really sorry about your car. I do respect you, don't ever doubt that."

"I can't keep it! It was probably very expensive."

My right hand was still between us, palm up, holding the white player towards Edward. This scene had happened before, almost exactly the same. I didn't want it then, and the only way he got me to keep it the first time, was to distract me with that kiss in my hallway. My heart instantly beat faster and my breathing hitched; I _really_ shouldn't think about the kiss, but some things in life were just unavoidable. My eyes searched Edward's, but he was looking down at my hand, then up to me, slightly focussing on my lips.

"I wouldn't take anything back, Bella," he said, not talking about the player anymore, it seemed. "Even though I am sorry for many things, I don't regret all of them."

What was that supposed to mean?

He didn't regret what exactly? Taking the scarf or the car?

Kissing me?

Maybe he didn't regret it, but he was still sorry?

Maybe I should take him to task for running away. But was I ready for the answer?

_I guess not. Not here, not now._

After all, _I _was the one who wanted to keep things professional, wasn't I?

"If I'm keeping it, I want it to be clear that it's only a deposit, until I get my car back. Understood?" Secretly I was glad, that I could use it a while longer, I liked having music with me. Edward's music.

Edward nodded and I took my hand down. He still didn't release the scarf, though. I sighed. I couldn't be responsible if he got a sore throat in this weather.

"Okay, until I get my car and my scarf back," I added and let go of the blue fabric.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and I was dying to see that crooked smile of his once more.

"Oh, you have to tell me where to get batteries for this sophisticated gimmick."

I was pretty sure it was impossible to fit normal batteries into the small thing, but after all it needed to regain power from something, right?

"So you used it quite frequently, didn't you?"

_There!_

_The crooked smile. _

I had to smile myself. "It's more like I fell asleep too often while listening. I already told you Wonderwall is boring." Edwards grin widened instantly and I started walking again, ready to face the world.

Edward continued to walk with me, and I was actually happy to have him here by my side. Everything else seemed far away when we were arguing – or doing other things.

"Where are you going?" he asked, glancing sideways at me.

"I need to buy some clothes, my luggage is in Rome."

"I could let you some, if you like!" Edward quickly announced and though it was really a stupid thing to offer, I was tempted to accept. I could only imagine the cosy feeling that wearing his clothes would bring. However, I couldn't let myself do that, I was already in too deep.

"Thanks, Edward. But I guess Mike will be a little upset tonight if I show up in men's clothing."

We argued the whole way to the stores about whether I should buy new clothes or if it was unnecessary as Edward insisted. I had to admit, it was quite funny and way better than giving the date with Newton too much thought.

I went into one of the first stores on our way, with Edward still trailing behind me. I grabbed a pullover, two t-shirts, warm socks and some jeans. I had the underwear from the Overnight Kit, but wasn't really looking forward to wearing those. On the other hand, I also didn't want to buy underwear when Edward was watching my every step.

So, I should be good for the 48 hours without my luggage. Still on the shopping list was tonight's outfit. _Tonight._ Only the thought made me feel queasy, but I also knew that I had to do it. Determined I stalked towards the more elegant wear, grabbed the next best dress and went towards the fitting rooms. I got out of my clothes and put the dress on, but as I tried to zip it up behind my back, I lost my balance and staggered against the wall. I guess, for now it would be enough with the back slightly open. I just wanted to see how it looked in general, I wanted to be prepared tonight. I turned around in the small cubicle, but there was no mirror.

"Don't Icelandic people look in the mirror?" I complained, muttering to myself. When I usually went shopping, I never left the fitting room. I hated it when the people were looking at what you were trying on, possibly making it even worse with commenting on your choices.

I opened the door a bit to peek out, and thankfully there wasn't anybody near. With my right arm behind my neck I did my best to pretend that the dress was fully zipped and walked towards the mirror a few steps away. Before I could even get a good look at myself the sweet velvet called for me:

"Bella, let me help you with that."

* * *

**Chapter end notes:**

Songs mentioned in this chapter belong to Oasis, as usual.

Judging by mention of Jedi Knights and Lois Lane, Ben isn't the only geek around.


	18. The Potential Of You And Me

Disclaimer: Have you heard about Stephenie Meyer? Yeah, she owns this.

There's really not much to say besides that you're amazing people for still reading our little story!

* * *

**Chapter 17 - The Potential Of You And Me**

_How I wish you could see the potential  
The potential of you and me  
It's like a book elegantly bound  
But in a language you can't read just yet_

_(Death Cab For Cutie - I Will Possess Your Heart)_

_

* * *

  
_

**Edward Cullen**

Bella was going to be the death of me.

One moment we were walking down the pavement, arguing about weather or not she needed new clothes, and the next she disappeared in a store, already grabbing some dress off the rack, while I was still trying to keep up with her.

"Bella," I tried, but she vanished behind the door of a little fitting room, not hearing me, or at least pretending she didn't.

She wasn't in any need of new clothes. Period. She looked just fine with her present jeans and blouse. There was no reason to buy something fancy for the sake of that Newton guy. And for the remainder of our stay - or at least until her suitcase would arrive - she could just borrow stuff from me. I could give something back for all the times I took from her; even if it were only my too big second-hand clothes. I paced through the store, thinking about some argument I hadn't used already, but couldn't think of anything I hadn't tried yet.

The worst thing about her stubbornness was that she was right in some parts. If Newton stayed true to his word, we would finally get an address and a name to continue our research. Or _I_ could for that matter. I couldn't and wouldn't allow her to come. Who knew what awaited us there? All this shit I got us in was far too dangerous for her.

I walked back to where Bella had seen the dress she wanted to try on and decided to wait for her right there to tell her it looked horrible, which seemed to be the only way to keep her from buying it.

I took one of the dresses of the rack and held it at arm's length to get a good look at it. It didn't look too fancy for a fake-date. A little cheap even. The fabric felt thin in my hands, the price tag confirming my suspicions. Alice wouldn't approve. But I had no doubt that Bella could pull it off and make it look good.

"Get ég hjálpað þér?"

I turned, startled by the sudden voice beside me, the dress slipping through my fingers and the hanger hitting the floor with a thud while the dress pooled next to my feet.

"I'm sorry, I... what?"

A small man was standing next to me, looking curiously at me and probably processing the fact, that I couldn't understand him in the slightest. "I'm with my girl. She's in the dressing room, trying on this dress," I explained, pointing from me to the dressing rooms and finally to the dress at my feet, while the shopman followed my movements with his eyes. Finally he smiled, nodding his head.

"Of course, Sir. May I help you with anything?" His English was almost perfect, the blond hair luffing with every word he said.

"No I'm fine, thank you. I better hurry over to the dressing rooms though."

I bent down, grabbed the dress off the floor and hung it back onto the rack, before I rushed over to the fitting rooms, feeling no desire to have the clerk helping Bella to find the perfect outfit for tonight. Especially when I had not enough money in my pockets to buy anything for her.

As I passed one particular high rack, which had formerly blocked my view to the fitting rooms, Bella was just coming through a door, turning towards one of the mirrors with her back to me. She took my breath away. Even from behind she looked absolutely stunning. Her hips swayed slightly as she walked, the dress hugging her body like it was made for her. I had to try hard, not to stand there and stare at her like some creepy pervert, but she was so beautiful I couldn't look away. That was until I realised she hadn't zipped it up and held the fabric together with her hand behind her neck.

I ran a hand through my hair, approaching her at the same time. She was like a magnet, drawing me to her. Although it had to be the polite thing to simply walk away and let her chose some clothing, I just couldn't.

"Bella, let me help you with that," I announced my arrival while she stiffened slightly to the sound of my voice. Clearly uncomfortable with my being here, her posture straightened up, but she didn't turn around to face me.

I hesitated for a second or two, giving her the chance to tell me to go to hell. But as she stayed silent, I gently pushed her hair to the side and fumbled for the zipper on her lower back. A sweet smell of strawberry found its way into my nose and I paused for a second to enjoy our closeness that I had missed for what felt like weeks. Carefully I pulled the zipper upwards, trying to keep her hair out of its way. When it was safe to avert my eyes from the zip, I chanced a glance over her shoulder, where our eyes met in the mirror right in front of her. I expected her to look away, to avoid the connection I felt whenever we were touching or looking into each others eyes, but she didn't even blink, holding my gaze with her deep brown eyes.

As soon as the dress was fully closed, Bella removed her hand from her neck and let it relax beside her body, while my hand lingered at her back a little longer. My fingers softly touched the warm skin of her neck while a shiver ran through her body, goosebumps appearing on her arms. She was cold. This dress was too cold. She shouldn't wear it. She shouldn't go to that date altogether. Another wave of possessiveness and guilt flowed through me and I laid my hand onto her almost bare shoulder, squeezing it slightly, without ever breaking the eye contact we still held through the mirror.

I had enough of this. The mirror was not enough. I needed to look at her directly and not at the illusion that was just a reflection of the real thing.

I increased the pressure of my hand on her shoulder and pulled her gently around so that she had to face me.

"Edward," she more or less whispered as she directed her eyes to the ground, staring at her shoeless feet. Why was all of this so damn difficult?

I squeezed her shoulder one more time in reassurance, before my hand travelled up to her chin, raising it so I could have a good look at her face.

"Bella, you can't wear that dress tonight," I told her, meaning it.

She managed to avoid eye contact despite the fact that I was almost forcing her to look up at me, by closing her eyes altogether. A little crease formed on her forehead, showing her obvious aggravation.

"Why are you still here, Edward?"

Her eyes opened slowly again, but I had no idea, what she was asking of me with that voice of hers that sounded so deeply hurt all of a sudden.

"Where else should I be if not here with you?" I sighed, answering with a counter-question. She probably wouldn't understand the meaning of what I was saying, but it was true to the core. In spite of the fucked up situation we found ourselves in, there was no place I would rather be in this moment. Only if it wasn't for the stupid date she had assigned herself to.

My hand was still lingering on her cheek, but the plaster on her forehead, which had already bothered me back in Newcastle when I was accidentally stalking her, attracted my attention. Although it didn't look all too bad from up close, I was still curious.

"What happened here?" I asked, gently stroking over the patch with my thumb.

All of a sudden her face turned crimson and her eyes closed in obvious embarrassment, before they narrowed, the crease on her forehead only deepening.

"I fell, that's what happened. And you have to stop touching my face all the time! That's really the cause of it all." Her voice was firm, almost angry, her words cutting deep. "And stop telling me what to do. I'm going to buy that dress, because I like it."

My hand had sunk to my side and Bella stormed off, back into the fitting room she had came from, the door falling shut behind her with a bang.

I had gone too far again. Why couldn't I keep my hands to myself? Why was everything about her too tempting? I paced in front of the door, the need to apologise overwhelmingly powerful. Why was it that everytime we met, she ended up angry with me?

"Gosh darn it!"

Bella's loud curse interrupted my thoughts and I rushed into the direction of her voice on instinct.

"What is it, Bella? Did you hurt yourself?"

It was silent for a moment, before the door opened and Bella appeared in front of it. She was still wearing the dark dress, her face even more red than before.

"No, for once I didn't hurt myself," she said through clenched teeth, "but I can't get out of that damn dress that you zipped up so professionally."

I looked at her for a second, before a loud laugh escaped my mouth. I knew it was more than inappropriate considering her obvious distress, but I couldn't help it. I hadn't laughed in such a long time.

That she would get so frustrated because of the zipper of all things, seemed like the funniest thing to me.

Afraid I had crossed a line - again - I looked at her face then, trying to suppress the chuckles, that were still threatening to break through.

But her earlier frown was slowly fading, a small rise of the corners of her mouth an indication that this wasn't all too serious.

"You want me to help you?" I asked, just to make sure I interpreted her seemingly better mood the right way. She shrugged indifferently, but turned around and pulled her hair over the shoulder so I had better access to the dress.

"But no touching!" she emphasised, her voice still having a dark undertone.

Another low chuckle escaped my body, before I realised what she was asking of me.

Her back was facing me, her small shoulder blades hidden under the tiny black straps of the dress.

I had to undress her now. Or at least start the undressing, which was far more unnerving than to just zip her up. I eyed the fastener carefully, trying to figure out a way to do this without touching her skin, but the task seemed quite challenging.

"Edward, just pull the damn zipper down, I don't want to stay here all day."

"You need to be more patient, Bella. I'm already at it, don't worry."

And without second guessing, I just opened the fastener in one fluid motion, held the dress together at her neck so it wouldn't fall down with my other hand and tried to not look at her exposed back for too long.

"Thanks," she muttered, taking over the two ends of the dress at her neck and stumbled off to the dressing rooms without even glancing my way again.

It didn't take her long before she reappeared in her jeans and blouse, the dress hanging loosely over her arm.

"Are you really going to buy this?" I asked. My idea to tell her it looked horrible had unfortunately died an unspectacular death the very moment I saw her in it.

I was a good liar, but not that good.

"Of course I'm buying it. It fit and I don't have time to go through hundreds of stores for this nonsense." She huffed and made a bee line for the cash desk, where the blond surferboy was already smiling at her approach.

I stayed in the background, looking down at the floor, not daring to face the surferboy. I could only imagine what he would think of me. I was not even able to pay for the woman's clothes. Eventually Bella appeared next to me again, putting the change back into her wallet, her new possessions dangling in a small bag at her arm.

I walked in front of her, opening the door to the sidewalk and holding it open for her until she was standing next to me again. All her belongings were stuffed back in her bag as she zipped her jacket up to the hilt.

"Are you cold?" I asked concerned. "I could give you my, well, your scarf, you know."

She raised one eyebrow at me as if she questioned my sanity but stayed silent.

We stared at each other for a moment, nobody knowing what to say, how to voice the situation we found ourselves in.

That was until my stomach started a low grumbling that was accompanied by a distinctive feeling of hunger. I lowered my eyes, knowing that there was no way she didn't hear that. I couldn't even remember when I had my last decent meal.

"Was that your stomach?" Bella asked, disbelief in her voice.

"I guess?" I replied warily.

"Jesus, go find yourself something to eat! That didn't sound healthy. I need to hurry anyway. See you tomorrow?"

Tomorrow? Why would she say that? There was no way I was leaving; no way I would let her out of my sight for the rest of the day.

"Tomorrow? No, definitely not tomorrow!"

"Are you leaving already? I thought you would be interested in--"

"No, I'm not leaving," I interrupted, before she could get even more ridiculous. "Of course not. Why would I leave and where would I go?" I shook my head at her while she just looked up at me with her sad brown deer eyes.

"I have no idea, Edward. You never do what I think you'll do," she sighed resignedly, "just give me a call tomorrow, and I'll pass Newton's information on to you."

"What about tonight? Can't I call you tonight?" I sounded quite desperate by then - even to myself. But frankly, it wouldn't work to not know if she was alright until tomorrow. She had to see that Newton could be dangerous, could actually be part of the crime. We weren't allowed to trust anyone anymore. And if I didn't know I would push her with that request, I would ask right away if she were okay with me following her every move until we were safely back in England.

"I'm on that date tonight, Edward. It would be a little weird, if my brother calls me all the time."

"I didn't intend to call you _all the time,_" I answered and silently wondered if she would get around this brother-nonsense eventually. I sighed. "Alright, you know what? I will give you my number and if anything happens, you will call me. Immediately."

Without hesitation she took her mobile out of the jacket pocket and handed it over to me with a shrug. "Okay, type your number in."

I did as she asked, glad I had my new number already memorised, and handed the phone back to her.

"Thanks," she mumbled as she pressed a few buttons on her phone, probably to save the number into her system. "So, see you tomorrow?"

"Uhm, yeah, I guess. Where can I find you?"

"Hotel Reykjavik Central. And now go find yourself something to eat already," she said before she turned, waved a little with her small hand and walked down the street to where we originally came from.

I stared after her, flinching when she stumbled across her own feet twice and watched as she turned around a corner of some brick house without turning around once.

I couldn't believe I let her walk away like that, but the reason was simple enough: I was starving. I rummaged through my wallet and scraped the rest of the coins, that I had previously spared, together.

Around two hours, a sandwich and some bottled water later, the hole in my belly was filled for the most part and I was sitting in the foyer of the Reykjavik Central, tapping my right foot impatiently onto the parquet floor.

I really thought about leaving Bella alone for the day, but I couldn't bear to be away from her any longer than necessary. And not knowing, not seeing what was happening with her was the worst part of it.

It was two minutes past seven, but Newton had yet to show up. My position behind a big green fern plant allowed me a perfect view through the hall and gave Newton no chance to pass without me noticing.

I kept staring at the entrance until eventually the blond hair strolled through the doors, dressed up like he was going to his own wedding or a funeral which seemed more fitting.

Newton looked around some and settled for the reception, where he bothered the lady with his nonsense. She grabbed the phone and called what I could only assume to be Bella's room, since the conversation was out of hearing distance for me.

A couple of minutes later I straightened up, trying to look past the ferns to get a better look at Bella. She stepped out of the elevator on the other side of the hall, looking beautiful in her new dress, hair fanning around her face and over her shoulders. Even from far away she was stunning. She was about to shrug into her jacket, when Newton suddenly blocked my view, rushing towards her with that dramatic smile he seemed to always pull off.

I stretched some more to see around Newton, trying to capture her expression and I was all but standing up and waving at them. My attempts at being subtle were a complete failure already. I was pressing my luck, hoping they were too ignorant about their surroundings and saw Bella smiling a guarded smile at him.

Newton reached for her forearm and put it through his bent one. Linked together, they exited the hotel lobby out onto the street. Bella's face was expressionless, like she was absolutely indifferent about what was happening. If he put a hand somewhere that I didn't approve of, I would intervene in a heartbeat.

I forced my fist to unclench, before I followed them out, leaving a suitable distance between us.

A light drizzle moistened my face and I put my hat over my hair before I realised that Bella and that moron didn't have any protection against the rain at all. We walked down a few blocks, the deep voice of the weasel bellowing over to me, although I couldn't understand a word. It sounded like a one-sided conversation after all.

The rain was getting heavier and I feared Bella might get sick if Newton pushed her along the pavement any longer. Her hair was already soaked and she was constantly reaching towards her forehead, putting some strands behind her ear. That idiot wasn't even pausing or offering her an umbrella or his jacket. My feet were begging me to run towards her and give her my hat at least, but my brain told me otherwise. This was a one-time occurrence and I would not be the one to fuck it up. Not this early anyway.

Instead, I reached for the phone in my pocket and typed as fast as I could without leaving her out of my sight for an inadequate amount of time.

"_I hope you took your umbrella, it's raining cats and dogs. Don't forget to call me when the 'date' is over. Edward"_

I pushed send and looked up to her, hoping to catch the moment, when her mobile would announce an incoming message. But instead they turned around another corner and disappeared out of my sight. I hurried down the street and just as I looked around the corner I saw them disappear in some cosy looking pub.

The lightly tainted glass allowed a fairly good view into the restaurant and I sighed in relief, when I saw Newton guiding her to a free table right at the front window. Light from a tall candle flickered across her face and provided me with a good view of her beautiful face, some wet strands of hair falling into her eyes from time to time. I positioned myself on the other side of the street, sitting down onto some stairs leading to someone's front door and hid behind the balustrade without giving up my excellent view.

It was torture to watch them without understanding their words and I discovered a masochistic vein inside of me that wouldn't allow me to look away. When Bella laughed or wrinkled her nose, I had no idea what evoked these reactions in her. At some point she coughed hysterically before she kneaded her hands embarrassed. I pushed my hoodie farther across my face, the rain soaking through everything I had on.

At some point she longed for her bag and I was almost sure she fumbled with her mobile, before a small smile spread across her lips. God, those smiling lips made my heart ache and my ego burst with pride. That was my smile. Not Newton's. Mine.

Unfortunately she didn't respond to my message, didn't ask me to rescue her from the weasel and I stayed hidden in the dark, waiting for her to finish dinner and watching over her in the process.

After what seemed like an eternity Bella waved for the waitress and to Newton's credit, he paid for the both of them, fawning the bills in front of everyone's faces, a little too decadent. What would you expect from a bank clerk, right? As soon as the waitress left their table with a broad smile on her lips, Bella pushed her chair back with the back of her knees and walked to the coat rack, out of my sight. I hated, when she disappeared out of my vision. The uncertainty was always nagging on my nerves.

When the opening door revealed them to me again, Bella shrugged into her jacket while Newton stood beside her, not even helping as she had difficulties finding her way through the right sleeve. Her hair was standing in every direction since it had dried from the earlier rain. The clouds still hung thick over the city, but the rain had stopped at last.

I still sat on the steps in the shadows of a balustrade, hidden from sight on the other side of the street, but near enough to hear their conversation through the silent Reykjavik night.

"So Mike, I had a great evening. Thanks for dinner." Her voice sounded polite but she was as finished with this date as I was.

"Of course, any time. Come on, I'll get you back to your hotel, or do you wanna go somewhere else?"

"No thanks, I'm really tired, but you know ... we had a deal."

"You're right; I'm a man of my word. I have the address right here."

Bella watched as he rummaged through his jacket pocket for a second before pulling a crumpled sheet out of it, handing it over.

Bella studied the little note and I would have given anything to see Bella's face in the darkness as she looked up to him again.

"Just this address? What about a name, Mike? A name would certainly help the matter."

He glared at her, eyes wide open with insinuation.

"A name? Oh Lois, I need a lot more trust in you before revealing a name. But we have the whole night in front of us, you know."

I jumped. Hiding in a dark corner was not longer an option. Newton was as good as dead. Even from afar I could see him flashing his toothy smile to her, implying things I couldn't even think about.

"Mike, I'm sorry, but whatever you are saying was never part of our deal. I really had a nice evening, but my brother is waiting for me in our hotel room and I --"

Bella was lying so bad. Her hands fidgeted with the sleeve of her jacket, eyes focussing on everything but him.

"Oh, forget about your brother for once," Newton interrupted and stepped closer to her, taking one of her hands into his. "Why is it that you talk so much about him anyway? Are you twins or something? Listen, let me take you to my apartment and we can see where things go from there on." His other hand went up to her face, a lose strand of hair obviously bothering him. My eyes narrowed down on him.

That was _my_ hair to touch, _my_ hand to hold and _my_ girl to caress. I stalked across the street, still going unnoticed by that disgusting fool, while Bella shied away from him, pulling her hand out of his and stepping backwards one and a half steps, before he got hold of her arm again.

"Don't go, Lois!" he said, grabbing her arm much too forcefully. "You can't just walk around in a dress like that cute black one and then go home without showing me the advantages of that sweet piece of clothing."

A swelling rage was taking possession of my body and I walked faster, running even.

"Let go of my arm, Mike. I want to go home now."

"That's what I want. But it's my home we're going to."

Her voice was more desperate than before, a trace of fear in her tone.

I got closer and could see Newton's eyes then, peeking through the open collar of her jacket from above, while still holding her arm in a firm grip.

"Let go of her, Newton," I growled as both of their heads spun in my direction.

* * *

**chapter end notes:  
**

Feel free to let us know what you think of it. And yeah Stalkward is back... that's good, right?


	19. My Complete Lack Of Grace

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing. If we owned anything, we wouldn't want to publish any more "Twilight" books. Sorry Bree.

Thanks to all of you for reading and hitting the little review button. :)

* * *

**Chapter 18 – My Complete Lack Of Grace**

Oh, how you laughed at my complete lack of grace  
But I could not recall  
A more perfect fall  
Because when I looked up into your eyes  
It didn't hurt at all

(The Postal Service – be still my heart)

* * *

**Bella Swan**

Mike Newton was not the harmless idiot I had taken him for.

He had his mind deep down in the gutter, asking me to join him in his apartment and showing him some kind of advantage. I wasn't happy that the Fagur Alit address was all he gave me, but I definitely didn't want to go any further with this. After all, an address was better than nothing. I stepped away, signalising rejection towards Newton, but he couldn't care less. He grabbed my arm and pressed his filthy hand against my upper arm. I shivered, getting cold from the inside; frightened how far Newton would take this. I worded my point of view clear and unmistakeable.

"Let go of my arm, Mike. I want to go home now."

"That's what I want. But it's my home we're going to," he answered, leering at me and now also dragging at my arm. I tried to withstand his force but moved in tiny steps with his pull nonetheless. I was just gathering some strength to scream for help as loud as I could, when I heard footsteps on the asphalt behind me.

"Let go of her Newton!" a man growled. Even as there was no need to turn – I would have recognised him anywhere – my head spun in the direction of the voice. It was Edward.

With fast steps he got between me and the maniac; guarding me. Newton instantly released my arm, which of course lead me to stumbling back a bit and falling flat on my bottom.

Meanwhile Edward continued staring at Newton like a predator, waiting for the weasel to make a wrong move so that he could slay him.

"Easy, man!" Newton stuttered and slightly stepped back.

"If you ever come near her again, I will end you! Do you understand?"

I barely recognised Newton's movement as a nod.

My trousers were soaking up the water from the pavement and I shifted to get up. Edward finally turned to look into my direction, still doubling his fists, eyes burning with anger. But I realised it wasn't directed towards me, because as soon as his eyes met mine there was a tender expression in them.

He knelt beside me to help me get up.

"Bella, are you alright? I'm so sorry."

I lay my hand in his, and he was about to pull us up again, as Newton's quick footsteps echoed in the quietness. Edward turned his head rapidly and I knew that he was about to go after him, but I couldn't let him do that. I didn't want him to leave.

I gave his hand a quick squeeze. "Don't."

His chest moved with a deep breath and then he raised the both of us. The atmosphere was still tense.

"He's not worth it Edward, trust me."

"How can you be so calm about this? He harassed you for god's sake!"

He was right, I shouldn't be calm. But the second Edward showed up, I felt safe. I knew Newton didn't stand a chance against him. I gave his hand a tug.

"Come on, let's go."

The warmth and cosiness of my hotel was calling for me. I needed to get away from here.

Edward's hand went up his hair and he took another deep breath, not moving otherwise.

"I shouldn't have let you in on this. It is inexcusable."

I sighed and let go of his hand.

"I'm old enough, Edward. I assure you that this had nothing to do with you. It was my decision, and therefore these are my consequences. Stop torturing yourself!"

Edward was looking silently at his hands.

"What a great coincidence that you were near, though. What were you doing outside anyway? The weather's really nasty, isn't it?"

Edward put his hands into his trouser pockets, his eyes still avoiding mine.

"Let's get you to your hotel, you must be freezing", he stated and shrugged out of his jacket.

"Keep your jacket! You'll freeze to death. Why are you not answering my question?"

Nonetheless, he put his coat around my shoulders. The warmth of his body instantly rushed through me and the pleasant smell of Edward tortured my nose. I couldn't help but snuggle a little more into it before I tore it from my body and pressed it into his hands again.

"Edward", I said in an - which I hoped - intruding voice.

"You'll only get mad. Let's not talk about this, please Bella." And with that he put his arm slightly around my shoulders to get me walking. As soon as I started, he withdrew his arm and my shoulders were lonely again.

It was so obvious.

Was I mad?

I couldn't be. At least not really mad. For all I knew he saved me from that perv Newton.

"Edward, thank you."

He stopped and gazed at me confused.

"You're not furious?"

"I guess I should be. You were following me around, weren't you?" I sighed. "But given the circumstances, I guess I can forgive you this time."

The corner of his mouth twitched and then he offered me a small smile.

"Thank you."

"But really, stop following me, Edward," at least until I tell you otherwise, I added in my mind, "It's creepy."

He nodded and we continued our walk through the nightly town.

"So, were you able to hear what Newton gave me about Fagur Alit from your hiding place?" I asked and he cringed a little. I wasn't furious but I was still a little irritated and wouldn't let go of his stalker tendencies yet.

"He gave you the address," Edward stated with a hint of guilt in his voice.

"Yes, and sadly only the address."

Edward's face hardened and he doubled his fists once again.

No need to speak about what Newton had wanted in exchange for a name.

"Better than nothing, I guess," I added as an attempt to ease the tension.

We stayed silent for a moment and without the distraction I realised how soaked my clothes really were. My wet backside was freezing, but I wouldn't admit that in the presence of Edward. I mean he would want to help me with that problem, and I --- No. Let's just forget about that.

I hugged myself a little tighter to gather all the warmth left and hoped we would reach my hotel soon.

"So, about the address," I started and it took all my strength to keep the shiver out of my voice, "Newton said it was a bit out of town. I guess we could rent a car and drive there tomorrow?"

"No, I can't let you be part of this anymore. I can't risk hurting you in any way. I'm beyond grateful for what you've done for me, but I could never forgive myself if anything happens to you. So please, let me do this on my own."

"I'm not asking. I got the address, so I'll go. Whether you accompany me or not."

"Bella," he said, shaking his head.

And then he didn't say anything more and we finally reached my hotel.

The moment was awkward. We stood face to face, me fumbling with my hands, Edward fumbling with his hair.

"So--," I started and felt Edwards intense eyes on me instantly.

"Are you up for a road trip tomorrow?"

"What are my choices, anyway," he mumbled defeated.

"Okay, then I could pick you up at your hotel tomorrow?" I suggested and finally looked at him.

His delicate fingers were scratching his neck.

"Well, here's the thing about the hotel--"

Been there, done that.

Edward looked exactly like when he had admitted that he borrowed my scarf. This could only be bad.

"Oh boy, what's next? Maybe you accidentally borrowed my hotel room this time?" I mocked but Edward didn't laugh.

"Just spit it out Edward, I'm tired and cold and all I want is to get inside and out of my wet clothes."

"This is embarrassing."

"I don't care. Tell me."

"I'm out of money."

How could he possibly be out of money? He was the CEO of one of the biggest firms in Newcastle. Wasn't he supposed to be super-rich?

"And?"

I mean, what was I supposed to do? It's not like I had a lot of cash on my hands.

"I have no hotel room."

"Oh."

"Well, I'm just gonna go and get my luggage from the place where I was staying last night, and then I'll meet you in the morning down here in the lobby, okay?"

"But where are you sleeping?"

_Please, let him have some awesome plan that is acceptable to me. _

"I don't know. I'll figure something out. Maybe I can hang out in the lobby for a while. Don't worry."

I _did_ worry. He looked exhausted; he needed a good night of sleep.

"You could--, I mean, there's a couch in my room anyway, and I guess--," his eyes widened, "-- you could just sleep there." He quickly looked down at his feet.

"Thanks, but I couldn't possibly accept that. I'm already deeply indebted to you."

"Edward, let's just save us a lot of trouble. Say yes before I change my mind. "

Finally he gazed at me again.

"Thank you Bella, I am beyond grateful. I'll get my bags."

"It's the fourth floor. Room 405."

I hurried inside and as soon as I closed the door of my room behind me, I stripped out of the wet clothes and jumped into the deliciously hot shower. When I was finished, I couldn't decide what to wear. Not because I was vain, simply because I had forgotten to buy some pyjamas. All I had was a pullover, two t-shirts and jeans. I could wear one of the t-shirts to sleep, but I wouldn't be alone tonight. So I could not wear a t-shirt to sleep. I finally donned the jeans and the pullover, delaying the problem.

I was just zipping the pants up as someone lightly knocked at the door.

Edward was here.

I opened the door and he stepped inside. He took his hat off and shrugged out of his jacket and his shoes and placed everything neatly at the little wardrobe. He put his bags next to the door and then obviously was out of options to busy himself.

We both glanced around the room a little awkwardly until I could think of something to say.

"Oh! Maybe you should warm up a little too. You can use the shower if you like."

Edward nodded gratefully and went into the bathroom with one of his bags.

I tried very hard not to think about the gorgeous man behind the door, who was probably undressing himself right now. I blushed with my thoughts. I needed to get busy.

I called the reception and asked if it would be possible to get another blanket, because I got cold very, very easily. They promised to send a maid. Meanwhile the water was running in the bathroom. I needed another distraction.

The laptop booted quickly and I checked my messages, but there weren't any. So I searched where the address of Fagur Alit was located. A bit out of town, as Newton had put it, was quite an understatement. The website said that it was at least a drive of five hours from Reykjavik. Then I looked for the nearest car rental service from the hotel and noted the directions. I noticed then that the water wasn't running anymore.

There was a knock at the door and I happily received the extra blanket. I put it on the sofa and was satisfied. This should be much better than the streets of Reykjavik or even the lobby.

The bathroom door opened and out stepped Edward. His hair was wet and a few drops were still lingering on the ends. He had changed into sweat pants and a t-shirt. Lucky bastard. I had to smile nonetheless. He looked cute.

"I -- I got you a blanket," I stammered and superfluously pointed towards the sofa.

He smiled. "You are very generous, Bella. Thank you very much."

I got a little lost in his smile then and as soon as I realised my staring I hurried to the minibar.

"Damn, I need a drink," I more or less told myself. My fingers lingered at a beer can but then I thought, screw it, and grabbed the little bottle of Whisky as well.

"Do you want anything?" I asked Edward, and he mumbled a no, thank you back. Well, not my fault. I sat on the sofa and emptied the Whisky in one go. That was exactly what I had needed; the liquid felt warm in my belly and I started to relax.

As I opened the can, Edward sat next to me.

"So, I'm wondering, Bella. What's your favourite drink?"

"I think I'd go with Snakebite. Why?"

"Like I said, I was just interested. I want to know more about you."

"Well, too bad that I'm more of a listener than a talker."

"How about this? You can ask me something and then I get to ask you something in return?"

The offer was quite tempting. I _wanted _to find out more about Edward.

"Okay, if you _insist." _I rolled my eyes.

"My first question, Mr. Cullen," Edward laughed, clearly remembering our first encounter at _Marco Polo_, "what's your secret? Tell me something that's not common knowledge about you."

Edward shook his head, one corner of his mouth rising. "Well, I was going to ask things like, what's your favourite colour, but if you_ insist _on tough questions, here we go."

Damn, I hadn't thought this through properly. Maybe the alcohol was already affecting my head.

"I love to play the piano. It often helps me make up my mind."

Instantly there were images floating through my mind. Edward Cullen in the most amazing dinner jacket possible, sitting down on a piano bench, his fingers elegantly pressing the keys with his eyes firmly closed...

"Bella?" _Shit._

"Oh- ah, sorry, I just – wow, that's cool. I wish I could play an instrument."

"I'll teach you," he stated with the most sincere look on his face.

"Really, don't waste your time. My mother, Renee, tried to get me to play the guitar when I was a kid. She got pretty frustrated," I smiled with the memories and took another sip of the beer.

"What was it like for you, growing up?"

Edward had his head propped up against the backrest and was looking directly at me.

"I can't really complain. There were," I actually used my hands to make air quotes, hence why I had to stop drinking, "_darker_ times, but my father and I, we managed pretty well."

He asked further and I described how the days with Renee had been: a roller coaster of emotions. As a child, I learned the lesson pretty quick; up one minute – down the next.

We talked about his childhood then, and I came to know first-hand how his father died. He tensed a little and I figured he didn't cope with it as well as he had told me. Our conversation was drifting towards more and more sad topics and I couldn't take any more dull things today. I asked Edward about Alice and Jasper and soon he was telling me quite amusing stories about the trio of theirs. I was beyond tired, but I also didn't want Edward to stop talking. It was a pleasure to have this conversation with him, far away from all conflicts, problems and prejudices. His voice was as soothing as ever and my eyes closed on their own account once in a while. I was drifting between reality and sleep.

"We should go to bed, Bella," the angel's voice was saying.

"I'm not tired," I murmured, fighting to keep my eyes open. He smirked.

"Of course. It's okay; it has been a very long day."

"Mhmm."

"Bella!"

Soft, but cold hands were squeezing mine. The change of temperature finally woke me a little, and I opened my eyes just in time to look into my favourite green ones.

His smile was warm and comforting, the awkward moments earlier long forgotten.

"Yes, sorry, you're right," I smiled back and got up from the sofa, went to the bed and slipped under the covers.

"Just tell me when you're ready to turn the lights off, Edward," I said, getting more comfortable. He didn't answer me and as I looked up, he was still standing in front of his improvised bed, scratching his head, looking at me.

"Is something wrong?"

"Ah, no, I was just wondering if you--," he trailed off and then shook his head, "never mind."

"Oh come on, what is it?"

He was looking uncomfortably at his feet.

"I don't mean to pry, but don't you want to change into something more comfortable?"

Blood shot to my head when I realised that I was in jeans and pullover, the pyjama issue still unsolved.

"Oh!"

A few more seconds went by painfully slow.

I figured I had to say something to explain my situation, but anything I'd say would only make it more embarrassing.

"Well, actually, my clothes are quite comfortable, thank you," I stammered and it was even obvious to myself how ridiculous I sounded.

Edward looked at me, pondering. I couldn't hold his gaze.

I sighed. "Okay, well, I forgot to buy pyjamas and my usual ones are in Rome, so this will be it for the night."

His hand went through his hair and he shook his head slightly.

"Why didn't you just say so? I'd be happy to lend you something."

Another rush of blood to the head.

"But I really don't want to impose." I felt awful about it. And I was afraid that I wouldn't get any sleep, wearing Edward's clothes. Leave it to my imagination to massively overdo things.

"Don't be ridiculous, Bella. It's the least I can do," he stated and rummaged through one of his bags. I swung my legs out of the bed and back onto the floor.

Edward handed me a dark shirt and I excused myself to the bathroom.

As the door behind me closed, I sat on the toilet lid and buried my face in my hands. I didn't even know why. This was just so overwhelming. All of it.

Eventually, I got up again, rid of my clothes and donned the shirt. I assured myself, that some girls wore skirts that were a lot shorter than the point where the dark fabric ended on my thighs. It didn't help; I still felt strangely naked. However, I was beyond tired and my bed was out there in the room, enjoying Edward's company.

I held my breath and peeked out of the bathroom. Edward had taken his sleeping position on the sofa, facing away from me. Utterly fearless I stalked towards the bed and crawled back inside. _Breathe Bella, breathe. You made it. _

"Thanks, Edward."

"You're welcome," he answered, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Can I turn the lights off?"

"Yes, I'm ready. Goodnight, Bella."

I turned the switch and wound myself in the blanket.

"Goodnight Edward," I replied silently.

The darkness whispered back: "Sweet dreams."

The situation was just so absolutely peaceful, that a smile spread across my face. Why couldn't it always be like this with Edward? My mind wandered back to the unavoidable topic: the kiss. I wondered why I couldn't stop thinking about it, but of course that was rather a rhetorical kind of question. The kiss had been special to me, and somehow Edward seemed special to me. My thoughts were already heavenly, cloudy, and soft, the thick cushion of sleep overwhelming me.

"Edward?" I whispered.

"Yes Bella," he replied, sounding not a bit sleepy.

"Why did you kiss me?" I murmured.

* * *

_... Well, anybody curious about the answer? ;)_


	20. I just rolled and I tumbled

Well we don't know if there's anyone still out there, because we haven't updated this in ages. If you are reading this: Thank you so much! You're awesome! I'm not sure we deserve your patience. If you're not here anymore, we understand. We're deeply sorry and I wish we could promise you that the next one will be here a lot faster... all we can tell you is that it's already in the making and that we will definitley finish this story!

Disclaimer: We own tickets for the best music festival in the world. However, we don't own Twilight and its characters. Go figure.

* * *

**Chapter 19 – I just rolled and I tumbled**

Cause I just rolled and I tumbled, down a long road, I stumbled  
While shooting in the dark as to what's best  
And finally, I found you - without ever learning how to  
(M. Ward - Epistemology)

"_Oh, it's a pleasure talking to you again! I am glad that you seem to have recovered quickly."_  
"_-"_  
"_Are there any additional questions about the annual audit? I really hope Mr. Cullen wasn't too disappointed I couldn't help him with his request the other day. But as you know, we are bound to -"_  
"_You talked to Edward Cullen?"_  
"_Um-"_  
"_What about?"_  
"_He was looking into some money transfers, a foreign payment if I recall that properly."_  
"_Iceland?"_  
"_Ah, yes! Now that you mention it, it was Iceland, I am sure." _

**Edward Cullen**

I stared intensely at the back of the sofa, inspecting the fabric closer than any human being should, until I heard the bathroom door open and close with a soft click.  
Bella was now wearing my shirt.  
I couldn't see it, but my imagination was very much intact. My shirt must be falling loosely over her body, ending mid-thigh, leaving the majority of her legs bare.  
I had been about to search for some pants in my mess of clothing, but before I could have a proper look, she had already disappeared into the bathroom. _Eager to wear my shirt_, I internally joked and smirked a bit at the thought.

She tiptoed across the room, her feet making cute little noises on the tiles.  
I concentrated harder on the single green fibres of the sofa, just to keep myself from turning around and ogling her. What the hell was wrong with me? Couldn't I give her some privacy at least?

It was just that I couldn't help the constant curiosity I felt towards her.  
During the evening we had talked more than we ever did before, but so many questions were left unanswered, so many things were still unsaid. We avoided the topic that was _us _altogether. I couldn't even say I was ready to discuss any of it, but I needed to know her thoughts on everything. On what we had. What was buzzing between us.

And now all my senses were alert, tiredness and exhaustion gone for the moment.  
Bella and I were sleeping in the same room. A room she offered to me willingly. Not the same sheets, not the same bed, but it felt very intimate nonetheless.  
Even more so, when Bella turned the lights out and a comforting darkness fell around us.

We said our quiet goodnights and I heard Bella fumble with the blanket for a moment, before complete silence filled the room.  
It didn't last long.  
"Edward?" Her voice was already thick with sleep, but an urgency in her tone indicated the obvious importance that her next words might hold.  
I was eager to hear them. My hopes were rising, thinking that the anonymity of the darkness might have increased her courage to say something more... private.  
"Yes," I encouraged, trying to sound optimistic.  
A tension hung in the air until a few seconds later she asked the most basic question of all. One I wasn't yet prepared for.  
"Why did you kiss me?"

_A need overwhelmed me. _  
_Lust took possession of my body. _  
_A desire to feel those beautiful lips on mine threatened to kill me from the inside, if I didn't follow its orders._  
_I care so much about you that I needed physical confirmation that you were alright._

I pressed my palm against my forehead, willing those dumb explanations to go away. All of this sounded beyond wrong. There was no simple answer. None that would explain it to her in the right way. But she waited for me to offer a response. One I couldn't give but had to if I wanted this thing between us to go anywhere. Someone had to take the first step. Put himself out there. Be brave.  
I turned on the sofa, facing her, but not seeing anything due to the all consuming darkness of the room.  
"I can't really give a rational reply, Bella. You looked so ravishingly beautiful that morning." I mumbled the words, my incapability once again about to ruin everything. "No, that didn't come out quite right. Always. You always look beautiful. Enchanting."  
Another exhale, another wasted breath.  
"But that's not the only reason, of course. What you did for me on that day can't really be put into words. I was almost broken, the day from hell behind me, an uncertain future before me. And there you were, believing in me. Helping me. Being the hope I craved for so desperately. Your warmness and your ability to just believe and be yourself was the most precious gift. But everything else is beyond what I can explain. I feel very protective of you."  
I paused, letting the words sink in.  
"Obviously, kissing you that day wasn't really a protection. Quite the opposite, I guess."  
I shifted my weight, lifted my head and rested it on my propped up hand.  
"But is it really so wrong of me to want to kiss you? I still want that, you know." I breathed a little shaky laugh. "Frequently."

Silence.  
Wasn't that enough? Or did I scare her? What now? Why didn't she say anything?  
"Bella?"  
More silence.  
"Bella, please, can you say something? It's okay if you don't... I mean, if I said something that offended you, I'm sorry."  
A little snore interrupted the silence.  
"Are you sleeping?"  
I sat up on my sofa, trying to make out her curled-up form on the bed.  
"You can't be serious!" I quietly cursed, running a hand through my hair. The silhouette of her body rose and fell rhythmically with her breathing. She was indeed sound asleep.  
I stood and stalked over to her bed, determined to wake her and tell her everything again if I had to. This uncertainty was getting to me. It was one of those now or never situations.

I knelt beside her, about to shake her shoulders to wake her, when I looked into her angelic face. Peaceful. Content. Even a small smile on her lips.  
Pale circles of light illuminated her face through the curtain-less window, a beautiful pattern of shadows and light on her flawless face.

I traced a line with my hand on her soft cheek and slowly put some hair behind her ear.  
Maybe this wasn't the right time for declarations of any kind. Maybe we needed to put this whole thing behind us and get past all those crimes and lies first. Maybe this needed some grand gesture.  
And maybe I was looking for excuses to not wake her and spill my confessions.  
But there definitely were too many things that still stood between us. Her stolen car only one of them. I needed to fix this first, get everything right for her before we could talk about what we did or didn't have. I sighed again, watching her sweet face for some more minutes, before I got up and shuffled back to the sofa.  
I let myself fall down on top of the blanket, any thoughts of sleep banned from my mind.  
"You have no idea what you do to me, Bella," I muttered, burying my face in my hands. How we even got this far was beyond me.

"Edward?"  
I jumped, the sweet sleepy voice startling me to the bones.  
"Are you awake?" I raised my head to look at her bed again, not able to see anything clearly.  
"Edward," she said again, more desperate this time.  
I rushed over to my former position, kneeling by her side, the despair in her voice and my name on her lips enough to make me crumble right next to her. She was asleep and her eyes were still firmly closed, the long, dark lashes lying peacefully on her cheeks.  
Bella was a sleep-talker.  
I smiled to myself. It was my name on her lips and her unconscious mind calling out to me. It made my heart swell with happiness that wasn't justifiable. Not rationally anyway.  
The crease on her forehead deepened further and her small nose wrinkled as if she was in pain. I raised my hand to caress her soft skin once again, but froze mid-movement, when the next words left her mouth.  
"Edward, stop! Jacob helps..."  
Louder this time, almost angry. And as always I seemed to be the recipient of her anger. Even in her dreams. And what did Jacob have to do with this? Did she mean Detective Black? What the hell was his role in her dreams?  
She fisted the sheets in her hand and pressed her head further into the pillow as if to hide from something. Or someone. Me?  
I sank back onto my heels, watching her face.  
"Everything will be alright, Bella," I whispered in her direction. "You don't have to be afraid. Not of me."  
Her fist unclenched a bit, but the wrinkles wouldn't go away. Should I wake her, free her from whatever dream she had? I decided against it and did the only thing I was sure of in my life: I hummed a song.

I sat by her side the whole night through, leaning against the bedside table and stroking her hand from time to time in slow patterns, praying she wouldn't wake and discover my pathetic self.  
When her breathing slowed during the early morning hours and a peaceful sleep seemingly overtook her body, I crawled back to my makeshift bed and pretended that there might be a slight chance for me to find some sleep at last.  
There wasn't any.

It was 6:30am when Bella woke. I was determined to keep my eyes closed, not yet ready to face her, although I had prepared myself the whole night for the confrontation we weren't able to avoid for much longer. But as her tiny naked feet patted across the tiles, my curiosity got the best of me. I opened my eyes.

She was looking right at me.  
"You're awake," she stated and immediately fumbled with my shirt that looked much more beautiful on her body than I had imagined the other day.  
I wondered if she remembered anything of last night; if she was aware of the words I had said, the things I had done, but I couldn't bring myself to ask. If she did, it was her turn now and if she didn't, it was wiser to just keep the pathetic shit to myself.  
"Yeah, I am," I answered and sat up on the sofa, throwing the blanket to the side.  
"Well, I better...," she began, waved towards the bathroom and turned around just to disappear behind the bathroom door.

This had been awkward.  
I ran a hand through my hair, pulling the strands a little too hard.  
Our relationship was right where it was before last night. Bella seemed calm and so sure of what she was doing, while my whole view of the world seemed to have changed in between a few days.

I didn't even think about what kind of pain a relationship could provide and ignored the images I had of my broken mother after she had lost everything.  
I just wanted it. Everything. Last night I wanted to hold her and be held. I wanted to kiss her forehead affectionately before I would capture her lips in a passionate kiss.  
And Bella? What did she feel? Did she feel anything at all? I had no clue. None whatsoever.

Sometimes I thought she might want it too. But other times it seemed like it was all about finishing her story and I was her friend or her _brother _at best.

But I knew I wanted more. The pull I felt towards her didn't lessen, it only grew over time. It was so strong that my fingers constantly twitched to touch her and feel her warm skin under mine.  
Although this scared me, there was nothing I desired more than to act on it.

_Soon_, I promised myself. As soon as we were back in England. I had to try at least.

I grabbed a couple of things from my bag and waited for Bella to return so I could use the bathroom.

She came out after what seemed like an eternity and gave me another curious glance when I passed her on my way into the ensuite bathroom.  
We needed to get past this state of awkward looks and pathetic conversation. It was unnerving. If she told me to go to hell it would be okay. I could do that. I could leave her to live a happy life. But this uncertainty was breaking me slowly and steadily.

I showered, brushed my teeth, slipped into yesterday's clothes and tried to flatten the mess on my head with my hands. It was useless as always.  
A brush on the small shelf under the mirror caught my interest. Bella's long brown hair was unmistakably visible between the bristles.  
I took it to comb my hair, but paused before I got to it. She wouldn't mind me using it, would she? I knew women could get furious with stuff like that. I eyed the object of interest for a moment longer, before I remembered something.

"_You know, you could've asked!" _she had said.

"Bella?" I called through the closed door. "Would you mind if I used your brush?"

A moment of silence was followed by her soft answer: "No, go ahead. I don't mind."  
I smiled, thoroughly satisfied and watched as her brush smoothed out my mess of hair in the mirror.

When I was happy with it, I hurried out of the slightly foggy bathroom and over to Bella, who was arranging our room-serviced and delicious-looking-breakfast on the small table in front of the sofa.

She immediately noticed me behind her and turned around, looking at her brush in my hand.  
"Thanks for asking," she mumbled.  
"I am able to learn from my mistakes," I replied smugly, while she inspected the brush, I had handed over to her, a little closer.  
"There is some hair of you-"  
"Oh shit, I'm sorry, give It back to me, I'm cleaning it up."  
"No!" Her eyes lifted to mine. "I like it. Your hair, I mean. It has such a unique, beautiful colour." The blood flooded to her cheeks and she was about to turn away, when her glance shifted further up to my hair. A giggle escaped her lips.  
"What did you do to your hair? It's so... un-you!"  
"I don't know? I guess, I brushed it." I shrugged, a little uncomfortable by her comment. Was _un-me_ good or bad? And the fact that she liked the colour of my hair was not missed.  
"The brushing obviously doesn't suit you."  
Without hesitation Bella raised her hand up to my head and ruffled through my neatly tamed mess.  
My eyes closed involuntarily to the familiar feeling of her hand in my hair. Even a soft moan might have escaped me as her fingers trailed along my sideburns, past the too scruffy jaw and eventually left my face completely.  
"There. All better." She grinned up at me, before her cheeks flushed an even darker shade of red and she turned to arrange the sandwiches once more.  
I wasn't able to say anything at all.

As it turned out, Bella had everything planned out already. Directions to the next car rental service all written down, room service ordered and a couple of sandwiches, eggs, apples and sweets packed in a small bag to take away on our trip.

We didn't talk much and certainly about nothing I wanted to hear.  
Soon after, we were sitting in a taxi that took us and a couple of necessities to the car rental service.  
We pulled into the parking lot and Bella handed the driver a few notes and slipped out of the door as soon as the tires stopped moving.

"Do you guys want to book this week's couple-special? It allows the both of you to drive with almost no extra costs and full assurance for you folks and the car. If you take the single rate, only one of you is allowed to drive, except in an emergency."  
The salesperson eyed me expectantly and pushed the documents over the counter in my direction, assuming I was responsible for those kind of decisions.  
But it was clear anyway. No need to spend more of Bella's money than necessary.  
"I think the single rate will do, thank you." I grabbed a pencil from its holder and began to read the form when I sensed Bella's narrowed eyes fixed on mine.  
"So you don't want to drive, Edward? That is odd since your hobby is to drive around as you once told me."  
The eyes of the salesperson shifted towards her. As did mine.  
"Well, of course I intend to drive, but you don't have to drive. We don't need to spend the extra money."  
She huffed in annoyance, her shoulders slightly shaking and I was wondering what I did wrong this time. Wasn't it in her interest to save money? It was bad enough that she had to pay for this in the first place.  
I mentally made a list of how much money I had to return once we were back home when her little fist made contact with the counter.  
"Jesus Edward, this is so typical. Did you get the message that I'm going to pay for that car? Doesn't that fact entitle me to be the driver? I think it does. But you're right. We take the single rate since I'm driving. I alone. I'm not even sure you can drive a real car since your fancy vehicle does all by itself. I bet you don't even have to push a button for the wipers when it's raining."  
"Yeah actually they have sensors for-", I began, but Bella grabbed the documents from under my palm and tried to snatch the pen out of my hand. "What the hell are you doing?"  
"I'm going to rent us the damn car. Give me the pen."  
"No, wait, I'm not going to let you drive!"  
"You won't let me? Are you serious, Edward? Do you ever listen to yourself?"  
"I didn't mean it like that. What I meant is that I can very well drive myself and you don't have to-"  
Bella ignored me completely and turned towards the confused salesman.  
"I'm sorry Mister, do you have another pen for me? I have to excuse my friend, he is-"  
"Please, listen to me, Bella. Why do we always have to argue? Here, you can have the pen." I stretched my hand towards her, the pen presented openly on top of my palm, but she just continued to glare at me.  
"Because you are arrogant, stubborn and rich and you're driving me nuts. That's why."  
"Rich? Because I'm rich? You are driven by prejudices? Right now I don't have anything. Not a fucking penny."  
I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to calm down, while Bella watched me expectantly.  
"Fuck," I cursed after a second and slammed the damn pen onto the counter.  
The fact that she wouldn't let me drive her around and take care of her made me angry. And that something as unimportant as money was even worth an argument even more so.  
But most of all, it hurt that Bella still saw me as an arrogant, rich idiot. She made her point: I had to back the hell off. I turned on my heels, leaving her to fill out the form. This argument was over, even if I had lost it. I was getting tired. Tired of arguing and tired of fighting. I was physically and mentally exhausted.

As I reached the parking lot, where the rental cars were all lined up, the sun was slowly warming the cold asphalt and the blue sky promised a beautiful day for a road trip. Except that I wouldn't be driving. Except that Bella and I had fought again and nothing about this trip would be beautiful.  
I sighed, kicking some pebbles across the lot.

After I had inhaled a couple of lungs full of fresh air, Bella returned with keys dangling from her finger and a copy of all the papers she had filled out in her hand.  
"I would say I'm sorry," she said, as she moved past me towards the rows of cars, "but actually, I'm not. Why do you have to be so... bossy all the time?"  
She suddenly stopped, turned around and glared at me as if she expected some kind of apology. But what was there to feel sorry about this time?  
"I'm not bossy," I complained. "I was trying to save us money and well, what is wrong with me wanting to be your chauffeur?"  
"You not _letting_ me drive is wrong. Different shades of wrong. And you know what's worse? You don't even realise what you are saying, what you are asking of me."  
"Yeah, I guess I don't. I'm not bossy, I was just suggesting, not ordering-"  
I tried to defend myself, but it was useless. Before I could finish my sentence, Bella interrupted.  
"Just stop this nonsense, Edward. Everything's done now and this is our car."  
She gestured behind herself, towards a middle-aged white Japanese car. Two doors, approximately 60hp, no remote, but a central locking system at least. I eyed the little thing sceptically. It wasn't much better than what Bella had at home.  
"I'm going to drive and you can play with the radio or something. That's the only compromise I'm going to agree to. Now take the damn seat before we waste any more precious time." She fumbled with the keys before she unlocked the doors and slipped behind the driving wheel.  
Words of disgust and doubt tingled on my tongue, but I kept them all to myself. Instead I climbed into the passenger seat and put my seatbelt on. Who knew what her driving abilities would be like.

As Bella adjusted the mirrors, the tension in the car was thick and uncomfortable again. It was hard not to comment on the missing side airbags or on the lack of an adapter for my iPod, but I kept my mouth shut, determined to find some kind of truce with Bella.

Before she started the car, she threw a map into my lap.  
"I asked the shopman about the address of Fagur Alit. He looked it up on the internet and marked it on the map for us. I hope you can read directions."  
I fought the urge to roll my eyes at her and began to study the map instead. The directions seemed easy enough.

We followed the signs, leading us north and left the city soon after.  
Bella shifted the gears much too late every time she brought up speed and I noted to self to buy her an automatic when the time would come, but kept my mouth shut – as hard as it was. I could be nice. The more urgent desire, besides giving out driving advice, was the constant longing of my hand to lay it right on top of hers on the gear shift. But I didn't. I could be nice and good.

My place in the passenger seat left me with lots of time on my hands as soon as we reached some sort of highway that we needed to follow for what looked like five hours.

Even when the silence began to kill me and I began fumbling with the radio, she didn't turn her head.  
"You don't mind classical music, do you?" I tried.  
"No, that's fine. I told you the radio is all yours."  
I scrolled through the frequencies, eventually finding a channel I was happy with.  
"So, uhm-," I cleared my throat. "You liked the music on my iPod?"  
"Sure, it's alright."

I tried to keep my ogling to a minimum, but couldn't help to chance a couple of glances in Bella's direction. She was cute when she drove. She always was. But the concentrated look on her face was a sight to remember. Her eyes were not leaving the road for just one second. I began to appreciate my new role as passenger.  
She blushed when she noticed me watching. I sighed.

"Do you-"  
"About last night-," we began simultaneously.  
I smiled at her.  
"Ladies first. What about last night?"  
It wasn't my chivalrous nature to let her go first, of course, it was plain curiosity. My fingers got sweaty when I thought about which part of last night she might want to talk about.  
"Yeah, last night. It was... nice."  
"Mhm." What was nice? Her date? Our evening? The declaration I made. Her shouting at me in her dreams?  
"You know, us, not arguing."  
"Oh that. That was nice, yes, for lack of a better word."  
I audibly exhaled, thinking about what happened last night and that she should never find out. It was about time to change the subject.  
"So, tell me about that date of yours. Did Newton, I mean, was he forceful before?"  
"Oh no, of course not. Do you think I would have stayed that long?"  
"God, that weasel. I should have never let you-"  
"Edward, stop it right there. If you ever say what you would and wouldn't _let me do _again, I might turn violent."  
"He didn't even offer you something to block the rain. I was about to run across the street and hand you my jacket," I muttered under my breath.  
"It was just rain, Edward," she answered, fortunately ignoring my stupid rant. "But thanks for your text message, that was kind of nice, although if I had known you were right outside, observing-"  
"Honestly Bella, I know you have every right to be angry with me, but you seriously can't expect me to let you meet strangers all on your own when we're in the middle of some murder. And it really would have been wise to put that stupid red umbrella of yours to some good use for once. I bet you're going to have the flu sooner or later."

"Which umbr... oh gosh, _the_ umbrella, yes." I studied Bella's face as she spoke and now that familiar shade of red was creeping back into her cheeks. "I might have lost that one."  
"Lost it? Didn't I just give it back to you a couple of days ago? I haven't seen you use it since that day in my office."  
Bella threw her hands in the air in exaggeration, leaving the steering wheel unoccupied.  
"Oh yeah and you would've seen, because you're stalking me. I almost forgot."  
"Hold onto that wheel! Jesus! It was just once because that bank clerk seemed suspicious. The other time was just by accident."  
"Alright, if you want to know the truth, I threw it away. Right outside Gateshead into the next best waste bin. Happy now?"  
"You what?"  
"Threw it away. Rubbish, garbage, trash. If I remember correctly, you didn't want it. Well, me neither."  
After a second I recognised that my mouth had fallen awkwardly open at her words. She threw that little thing away while it still haunted me? I even saw people with red umbrellas everywhere, thinking of it as a symbol for her.  
"Get over it, Edward. It was just an umbrella. Why do you even care? You better tell me where we are now. This direction doesn't look right anymore."  
Bella slowed the car and looked out of the windows, searching for god knows what, while I grabbed the map off the dashboard, still dumbfounded by these new revelations.  
I started comparing the streets, tracking the ways we already drove, finally coming to the conclusion that we took the wrong turn about twenty miles ago.

"Alright," Bella said and stepped onto the brakes right in the middle of the street, "that's it."  
"What are you doing? You can't just stop here!"  
"Relax, there's no one coming."  
"But you-"  
"Get out."  
"Excuse me?"  
"Get out! I'm reading the map now, you're driving."  
"No, what? I can read the map just fine. I was just distracted for a second."  
"Obviously you can't. And you better be more versed in driving than in reading maps if you want to get anywhere today."

And so it was settled, insurance ignored, I was driving.

Houses were getting fewer and fewer along the roads, only small cottages for sheep and horses were built in between fields of green. The landscape was a mixture of the greenest green and the bluest blue I had ever seen. Occasionally bits of white snow could be seen on the higher hills and mountains we were passing. Our arguments had died down as we started to admire the beautiful scenery around us. It reminded me of the Scottish Highlands, just much more intense. More quiet, more peaceful, more lonesome.

We had driven for about seven hours by now, taking breaks when necessary, talking about random things like roadtrips and music and life, ogling each other every chance we got. Or that may have been just me.  
"I think we're almost there." Bella lifted her head off the window and took another glance at the map. "Actually, I think we just need to pass those hills in front of us and then we should be able to see the coast. But I don't know what kind of company we are supposed to find in this nothingness. It's not really the epitome of industry out here."  
"True," I agreed. "Bella, I don't think it's a good idea that you're out here with me. What if something happens to you? I could never forgive myself. What if Fagur Alit is a weapon factory?"  
"Sure, why not nuclear weapons? The centre of terrorism maybe? It's a little too late for those thoughts, don't you think?"  
"I can bring you back. We'll find a nice hotel for you to stay in."  
"You shouldn't worry about me, but more about yourself." She paused for a second and then added with a silent voice: "Because that's what I do."  
I glanced over to the passenger seat, where Bella was watching the outside world passing by, the sun making her hair glow.  
"My alternative is to rot in jail, Bella. Yours is to be happy and forget about everything."  
"I can't just forget. And I can't leave you here. I just can't, alright? So you better live with it now."  
"Why? Why can't you forget? Is this about the story? Because it isn't. Not anymore."  
"Well, it is. And it's going to be a good story at that. Why are you slowing down?"  
"I'm not-," I tried to argue, but the motor was already coughing and stuttering, eventually shutting down altogether. "What the fuck?"  
I boxed the steering wheel with my hand, internally cursing the stupid old car for being unreliable and a whole lot other things.  
Bella leaned over to look at the last glowing lamps on the dashboard.  
"The gas is empty."

"_Let's get to the point, shall we? I don't like people wasting my time."_  
"_Me neither. I need a gun."_  
"_Well, well, what tells you that I'll get you one?"_  
"_I have the right amount to convince you, trust me."_  
"_You need to watch what you're saying. Tell me what you need the gun for."_  
"_That's none of your business. Count the money."_  
"_Listen, mate. I'll count the money when I want to count the money."_  
"_-"_  
"_I already told you that I don't like it when people waste my time. Jane, dear, remove him from my office."_  
"_What? Get real. Okay, I'll raise my offer."_  
"_Jane, go ahead."_  
"_Come on! Is this really all about the reason? What could I possibly need a gun for? Damnit, I need to find that son of a bitch Cullen and put him in his place. When I'm finished with him, he can rot in Iceland."_  
"_Pretty Boy Cullen?" _  
"_-"_  
"_Well, now I'm interested."_

_

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_

Thanks for reading. It still means the world to us!_  
_


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